#I just hate myself if I’m doing THIS to myself

[maxtermind]

“your opinion of me won't change, right?” + lando (who kinda has a fuckboy reputation but fell for the reader)

“your opinion of me won't change, right?”

( event masterlist \ main masterlist \ drop a request ) ★:summary:: the one where a fuckboy gets turned into a loverboy? ★:feat:: lando norris x reader ★:genre:: hurt/comfort

the knock on your door comes around midnight when you're almost going to bed. you don’t expect anyone, especially not him.

for a second, you stand still, unsure of what to do with heart thudding. but the persistent rapping doesn’t stop, and despite the days of silence between you two, you already know who it is.

when you swing the door open, lando stumbles in, his shoulders slumped, eyes clouded with alcohol and something darker. his hair is a mess, damp from the rain, and he reeks of whiskey and regret.

“y/n,” he breathes out, almost as if he’s relieved to see you. but you’re not relieved at all. you’re angry, confused, and hurt and looking at him really hit you so hard that you had to squeeze the ends of your his t-shirt to not stumble.

you close the door behind him, and he sways unsteadily. he’s drunk—drunker than you’ve ever seen him. his clothes are disheveled, his usual cool confidence replaced by something pitiful, something raw.

"lando, what the hell are you doing here?" your voice is sharp, meant to sting, because his presence alone already rips at the wounds that haven't even started healing yet.

he doesn’t answer right away. instead, he looks at you with those familiar blue eyes, the same ones that once made you weak in the knees, but now… they just bring back the pain. his lips tremble as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t.

"you—" lando slurs slightly, stepping forward, hands outstretched. "you weren't… supposed to leave. you—" it washed over you like a bucket of cold water and you're already moving away from his touch.

"don't." your voice cracks, and you hate how fragile you sound. you take another step back, putting more space between you two. "don’t come here like this again."

lando rubs his face, pacing around your small living room slowly, stumbling over air. he’s spiraling, trying to collect his thoughts, but the alcohol muddles his brain and you can see the struggle on his face.

“i didn’t mean to… i didn’t want you to leave,” he mutters. he turns to you, desperation in his eyes. "i messed up, okay? i know that. but i… fuck, i’m trying, y/n."

you cross your arms, every muscle tense. "trying? you’re drunk, lando. that’s not trying."

his face crumples at your words, and he stumbles back, this time collapsing onto the couch like his legs can’t hold him up anymore. his hands run through his hair, pulling at it in frustration, in agony.

you vividly remember what happened a few nights ago when a girl texted him asking if he was up for 'another' great night. it wasn't easy being with someone while knowing he could have anyone in the entire world and with his past, you were already always on the edge of letting your insecurities out.

it just led to a bigger argument where instead of assuring you how you were the only one he ever wanted, he asked you to either start trusting him or leave.

so you left.

"do you know how much i fucking hate myself?" his voice is hoarse now, barely above a whisper, but the rawness in it cuts through you like a knife as it brings you back to the present. "i tried to be better for you. i… i tried."

you swallow the lump forming in your throat, trying to stay firm, but it’s hard. it's always been hard with him. "you have a funny way of showing it."

he lifts his head slowly, tears brimming in his eyes now, and the sight is enough to make your resolve crack just a little. you've never seen him cry before. not like this.

“your opinion of me won’t change, right?” his voice breaks, and you freeze. the vulnerability in his question sends a jolt of pain straight to your chest. he sounds small, defeated, like the weight of everything he’s been carrying has finally crushed him.

“lando…” you whisper, but he doesn’t let you finish.

"because everyone else—" he pauses, taking in a shaky breath. "they all think they know me? that i’m just some… some asshole who doesn’t care, who’s not capable of… anything real? but i’m not. i’m not, y/n. you know that, right?"

the room feels heavy, like the air is thickening with every word. you want to say something, to tell him that you believed in him once, that you saw the good in him, the real lando, but it’s not that simple anymore.

"i fell for you," he says, voice trembling, eyes glistening as he stares up at you like you're the only thing that can save him. with the rapid blinking of his eyes, tears start to fall and so does your resolve. "i wish i didn’t put you through this, but i did. and i didn’t know how to be that guy… the one you deserved. but i tried. i’m still trying."

it’s quiet for a moment, just the sound of his ragged breathing and your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you look at him, really look at him. his face is flushed from the alcohol and the tears, but beneath that, you see something more. he’s broken in ways you never let yourself see before.

all the cockiness, the bravado, the charm—it was all just a shield. he never thought he was good enough for you either, and maybe that’s why you left. you repeat it to yourself but it was a losing war.

the old lando wouldn’t be here, in front of you, crying and baring his soul. he wouldn’t have admitted any of this. isn't that reason enough to give him another chance?

he was selfish before, reckless, hiding behind his reputation as the playboy, the fun guy who never cared too deeply about anything. but now, now you see the cracks. you see the vulnerability he’s tried so hard to bury and it kills you to give in but the words leave you before you can stop yourself.

"i thought you didn’t care," you admit softly, feeling all your defenses start to crumble. "that’s why i left, lando. i didn’t think you could care."

"i fucking love you," he lets out a bitter laugh, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. not believing what you were saying at all. "i care too fucking much. i just… maybe i don’t know how to show it right."

you sigh, sitting down beside him on the couch, still keeping a little distance between you. "it’s not about showing it right. it’s about showing it at all."

he looks at you, his gaze softer now, more open. "i’m sorry. i know i’ve been… i know i fucked up. but i’m… i love you, y/n. i really fucking love you. and i didn’t know how much until you weren’t there."

his words hang in the air, and for the first time in weeks, you don’t feel anger or hurt. you just feel… sad. sad for him, sad for you, sad for all the misunderstandings that led you here.

you reach out, gently brushing a lock of his hair from his forehead. he closes his eyes at the touch, leaning into it like he’s starved for your touch. he probably is because so are you.

"i’ve changed," he murmurs, his voice thick with exhaustion. "i swear loving you has changed me."

you don’t respond right away. instead, you lean forward and press a soft, lingering kiss to his forehead. his skin is warm beneath your lips, and the simple gesture feels more intimate than anything you’ve ever shared before.

when you pull back, lando looks at you through heavy-lidded eyes, his emotions raw and exposed. "i love you too," he mumbles, his voice barely audible, like he’s falling asleep or slipping into a dream where things are better, where you’re together again.

you don’t know what’s going to happen next, or if you can really fix what’s broken between you. but for the first time in a long while, you feel like maybe… just maybe, you can try.

and maybe this time, it’ll be different.

©maxtermind // do not copy, rewrite or translate any of my work on any platforms.

★:a/n:: thanks for the request love! feedback and reblogs are appreciated :3

[abeejasarts]

I absolutely LOVE the Bill Goldilocks Cipher AU. (AU by @ckret2) I love it to bits. I think that its important everyone knows WHY I love it so much so more after the cut

I have recently gotten into reading the Bill “Goldilocks” Cipher AU, and I’m absolutely in love. (As an important note, I am on chapter 45) Not just because of the characterization and how it feels like how all the characters would act and adventures that could happen in the show, but also because specifically what Bill looks like. And I WILL INFODUMP!

Bill, for context, is stuck in this body. it’s not something he’s possessing, it’s his own body, but it was made by a computer. He created it instantaneously to escape the Theraprism (in an INCREDIBLE one shot I suggest fans of the Book of Bill read)

But then he got stuck. He couldn’t leave it, his soul was essentially stitched to the body with no powers and no way to escape. And he hates it. Bills body doesn’t look like him, not because it’s a woman, because it’s a human, and he wishes he was still a 2D triangle. The FACT that it’s a woman, the fact that it doesn’t match up with what we the audience imagine Bill would look like, let’s us imagine some of that “this isn’t right” dysphoria that is so essential to the story and Bill’s characterization. Of course we would imagine Bill to be a man, but he isn’t here. When he says he hates how his body curves and moves, we think, “oh, he means cause he’s a woman” NAW HE JUST WANTS TO BE 2D! It’s BRILLIANT!

But that’s not all!

Bills entire reason for escape is because he doesn’t want to stop being himself. He doesn’t want the prison to take away his memories or make him “perfect”, he just wants to be him and he’ll do anything to stay himself. He wants to be free.

and then when he escapes to try to stay himself forever, to “freedom”, he’s immediately trapped again. He’s trapped inside Gravity Falls, he’s trapped with the Pines, but worse; he’s trapped in a foreign body. He isn’t himself. The thing he wanted most cost him what he was fighting for to begin with.

This AU is so beautiful. It’s amazing. I adore it. And Author, if you’re reading this, your work has brought me many days of brainrot and joy.

Also, importantly, I haven’t read through the authors blog, so there’s a chance that they just think Bill should be a woman and that’s just what he would look like humanized, and there’s nothing deeper than that and I’ve made a fool of myself. If that’s the case, and the whole “the audience understands the dysphoria” part isn’t correct, I apologize, but if that is what you were going for, you did it perfectly and please never stop writing because it inspires me.

Also I have more fan art coming this AU really did give me serious brainrot like nothing else

[cosmicdahlias]

What You Deserve

a ford x reader fic

MINORS DNI

warnings: HEAVY NONCON, smut, possession

i really went wild on this one i hope y’all enjoy

Ford has been worrying you lately. His sleep schedule is erratic, he barely eats, and it seems like he’s always talking to someone that isn’t there. But there is someone, you’ve come to know him as Bill.

In Ford’s words Bill is his muse, his inspiration. You hadn’t questioned it at first, it kept him so driven. But now things were different, Ford wasn’t quite the same as when you first met him.

You’ve never spoken directly to Bill, only when he speaks through Ford via possession. You never let Ford know but it terrifies you to see Ford so unlike himself. He turns wild, dangerous, unpredictable. Sometimes disappearing for days at a time and returning with no recollection of what transpired. One time coming back sporting a tattoo of a star on his neck that he had no memory of getting, but a tattoo was the least of your worries.

You’ve started to hate Bill for what he’s done to your partner. You fear the day that you turn on the news and see that the local mysterious scientist in the woods has turned up dead.

You secretly love him too. He captivated you, perhaps that’s why you cared so much. If he was just your coworker it wouldn’t keep you up as often as it did. You wanted to take him away from all of this, to just kiss him and tell him that there was more to life than being Bill’s puppet.

These thoughts consumed your mind as you sat at your desk going over your research notes. You were so in your head that you didn’t sense the looming presence behind you.

A hand grasped your shoulder, you jumped nearly a foot out of your chair. It was Ford.

“JESUS Christ, Ford. A little warning next time?” You gasped.

He released his hand. “Oh dear I’m sorry I hadn’t realized I’d scare you like that, you just looked so wrapped up in your own thoughts. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You huffed. “Yeah, it’s just… I have a lot on my mind right now.”

“Oh? Perhaps I can take your mind off things.”

“How so?” You asked.

“Well for starters sweetheart I can rip off those clothes.” He cooed.

“What?” You stammered.

“You heard me.”

You blushed, this was so unlike him. “Ford are you feeling okay?”

“Are you kidding? I’ve never felt more like myself.”

It was then you noticed his eyes, the yellow tint and catlike pupils. Your heart sank. Bill.

“I know it’s you Bill. What do you want?” You spat through gritted teeth.

“I’m just doing old sixer here a favor. I’ve seen inside his mind and I know what he thinks about you. Thing is, he’s too damn shy to just go for it. So I figured, why not do it for him?”

You felt like a rock just sank to the pit of your stomach, you knew what that meant. Your thoughts quickly screamed at you to defend yourself. You knew you had a small knife in the drawer of your desk, but could you grab it before Ford, rather, Bill reached you?

You decided to take the risk, you shot up and darted your hand to the drawer, pulling it open. You quickly grabbed the knife and held it out in front of you. Your hands trembled.

Bill laughed coldly “That’s cute of you, but here’s the thing, you try hurting me and you’re just gonna kill Fordsy. And we wouldn’t want that now would we?”

Before you could say anything Ford descended on you, coming up behind you his hands gripping your wrists and wrestling the knife out of your grasp.

“Now listen to me toots, we’re gonna have some fun on behalf of my good old pal here. You can struggle all you want, but I think you and I both know he’s a lot bigger and stronger than you.” He said, running the knife against your throat.

You felt his teeth sink into your neck, rough kisses left at every bite mark, his hands traveling up and down your body. He hooked the knife underneath your clothes and began to tear away at the fabric, leaving your top half exposed.

You wanted to run, to scream, to cry, but you knew it would be in vain. Where would you run? To whom would you scream or cry to? You were all alone in a shack in the middle of the woods with a man possessed by a twisted demon.

The knife slowly cut away at your skirt, next your bra and panties. Ford kept a hand on your waist, the other still holding a knife to your throat.

“Now,” he said, his fingers massaging your breasts “I’m going to have my way with you.” His voice sent a cold chill down your spine.

In one quick motion Ford spun you around and forced you to the floor, hands holding down your wrists.

“But first, I think Ford deserves a good look at my work, don’t you?”

As you looked up at Ford you saw his eyes return to their normal whites and rounded pupils. He looked down at you, confused, then the horror set in.

“Y/n, what are you- oh god no, Bill what have you done?”

Before he could even remove his hands from your wrists his head snapped back violently, when he returned his gaze to you it was with the same terrifying look, Bill had retaken control.

Keeping a hand on your wrist he began to wrestle with his belt.

“I’ll never understand you humans and your complicated clothing.”

He slipped his pants low enough to reveal his cock, which was dripping with precum. You tried hard to fight against him but your efforts were in vain, Bill was right, Ford was stronger.

Sharply and violently he slid himself into you all the way to the base. You screamed from the pain and Ford let out a loud groan. He began to thrust hard and fast, growling and breathing heavily into the crook of your neck.

“Ah fuck, now I see why sixer wanted this so bad.” He hissed.

You felt your will begin to fade, you were stuck like this, there was nothing you could do, no one was coming to save you.

“I think Ford should feel this too, I never know if he feels anything I’m doing.”

His eyes reverted again, they widened.

“No no no, dear god, make it stop. I’m so sorry, y/n.”

Ford tried to fight it, he struggled to get himself off of you but Bill began to take hold again.

“Fordsy might be sorry, but I’m not. Quite frankly I always feel like you’re getting in the way of things, perhaps this will teach you to stay away.”

He resumed his brutal pace, the loud slapping echoing through the lab accompanied by his grunts and your whimpers. All you could see was his yellow eyes and wicked smile. This was pure hell, you wanted Ford, but not like this, never like this.

He could feel himself getting close, he grabbed your legs and hooked them over his shoulders. His nails dug into the soft flesh of your calves.

“Hahhh, hahhhh. I’m going to… make you regret ever agreeing to work with Ford. You’re gonna… keep your distance. You hear me?”

Tears began to stream down your face, you started to hope that Bill would just kill you after he was done.

Ford was fucking you at a punishing speed, as he forced a hand to your throat Bill released him right as he began to cum. Ford let out a deafening moan and his whole body shook. Everything went white for a few seconds, when his vision returned he was greeted with a frightening visual beneath him.

Ford let you go and backed up against the wall, he had to focus all of his attention on not vomiting.

“Y/n, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

All you could do was lay on the floor, nothing felt real. Ford took off his trench coat and wrapped you in it. Tears began to fall down his face.

“I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you.”

[joemama-2]

this is not how you imagined your friday night would go.

you thought you’d be watching the stars by now after a nice dinner. maybe some compliments, maybe even a small kiss shared. or some held hands.

but no. because currently you’re seated on the expensive couch, eyes fixated on some random nature documentary because you don’t have the courage to face the six year old boy to your left and demand him to stop staring.

you like kids, but this one oddly makes you nervous, scared almost.

your date is in the bathroom taking way too long and you’re half tempted to up and leave. your posture is stiff, forcing yourself to find the screen interesting.

our of your peripheral, you can see the boy raise his spoonful of ice cream to his mouth, head tilting like you’re one of the animals being observed on the TV.

“are you the one he keeps talking about?”

confusion strikes you as you finally turn your head to face him. your titled head mirroring his own. “um…..i’m not sure.”

a part of you feels flattered by the sudden fact. is satoru really talking about you? but then an unsettling feeling takes place, one of hesitation and jealously. or is he talking about someone else?

“you have the black Cane Corso, right?”

ah, so it’s the former. you smile. “oh, yeah. that’s me.”

“what’s his name?” the little boy asks you, shifting his small body as the talk of dogs gains his attention by the second.

“sunny.”

his brows pinch together. “why sunny?”

“because he was a stray, i found him a box on a very hot day.”

he hums and nods before asking yet another question. you forget how curious children can be. “is he nice?”

you chuckle. sunny has the stereotype of being aggressive due to his breed and size, but he’s anything but. he’s your gentle giant who gets scared of butterflies and plastic water bottles. “he’s really nice, he loves meeting new people and licking.”

you playfully stick your tongue out with a look of a faux grimace. this gets the small boy to crack a hint of a smile. it warms your heart almost instantly. “you like dogs?” you ask him, voice softening.

he nods automatically. “i really like dogs, i have two dogs. one is white and the other is black.”

“oh wow,” your eyebrows raise. “that’s so cool, are they big too?”

“mhm.” he nods.

you do a small look around. “where are they?”

he simply shrugs and answers, “they only come out sometimes.”

you want to ask what he means by that, but you figure satoru would best know. speaking of, he must be shitting a big one or he’s trying to calm his nerves inside that bathroom down the hall.

the little boy hesitates, like he wants to ask another question but isn’t sure if he should. you give him an encouraging nod and he sighs. “can you bring sunny next time?”

—————————————————————

“when you said you were fostering, i assumed a pet or something. not an actual child.” you tell Satoru as he’s walking you to your apartment door.

the two of you stop in front and he takes this time to grin. “do i not look like a boy dad?”

your eyebrow raises with an unamused expression. “no, first off, you look like a girl dad. and second off, does he consider you his dad?”

“nah, not at all. more like an older brother if anything. or maybe that annoying uncle everyone hates.” he reaches forward to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “did he like you?”

“i hope so.” your lips purse. “i wasn’t exactly ready to pitch myself as a good person tonight to some kid.”

satoru chuckles, thumb lingering on your cheek. “don’t need to pitch yourself, just be you and he’ll like you just as much as i do. well—actually—hopefully not as much. i’d hate to have competition.”

you can’t help but roll your eyes. “he did mention a next time, though. wants me to bring my dog.”

“you mean that oversized human on all fours?”

your hand collides with his shoulder. he laughs and intertwines your fingers with his. “kidding, kidding. don’t get violent, at least not now.”

leaning down, his lips kiss your forehead smoothly, they linger for a few seconds before he mutters against your skin. “his names megumi, i hope you’ll get along.”

your stomach flutters during this moment, relishing in the easy and comfortable intimacy. you nod and murmur back. “of course.”

he pulls back and smiles down at you. just as he’s about to speak another cheesy line, you beat him to it.

“so….you talk about me a lot?”

[springgirlshowers]

Let Me Show You

Summary: You haven’t been feeling very pretty lately, Joost decides to prove you wrong, and he won’t let you finish until you admit that you are.

CW: negative self talk/self image, tiny bit of crying, body worship, teasing, praise, so much foreplay, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, i use google translate for dutch (im sorry 😭)

WC: 2820

A/N: i wassss gonna wait to post this, but i couldn’t help myself it feels wrong to keep the world waiting </33 challenge: take a shot every time the word “kiss” is said in this fic

You hadn’t been feeling well at all today.

Not in the sick with the flu sort of well, more of just not feeling well with yourself. Not feeling content with yourself.

It started in the morning, when you stared at yourself in the bathroom mirror. Joost was already gone, needing to stop by Teuns to clean up a few songs.

You leaned forwards in the mirror, analyzing your face. Feeling disappointed at it, for some reason, it felt like every single tiny little flaw was extremely noticeable. Every blemish, every bump, every pore, it all felt so much more noticeable.

You pushed at the apple of your cheeks, then leaning away from the mirror to look at your body.

You turned to the side, looking at your stomach and squeezing the flesh. Dropping your arms weakly as you continued to stare at yourself.

You felt ugly. You hated it. You wanted to crawl out of your own body.

Since that was impossible, you threw on a matching pair of gray sweats. Then curling yourself into a ball under the sheets. Hiding away from the world.

About three hours later, you heard the door unlock and the sound of shoes being kicked off. Joost called out your name, stopping once he saw the sight of your back and head on the bed, the rest of you covered up by the duvet.

He knew you were awake, it was only a few minutes after 3PM.

He walked over to your side of the bed, sitting on the edge and smiling at you as he stroked your hair. He could already tell from the look on your face that you were upset.

“Hey, what’s going on?” He spoke softly, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“Nothing, I’m just a bit tired.” You shrugged, Joost let out a breath through his nose, seeing straight through your lie.

Joost was your lover, of course he knew the difference between a tired expression versus a gloomy expression on your face.

“I know it’s not that, schat. Something’s bothering you.” Your eyes darted away for a second, you were trying to decide if you should keep up this act of just being “tired” or be honest.

“It’s really nothing, Joost.”

“You keeping whatever it is bottled up is only gonna make it worse, liefje. Trust me, I would know.” Joost tutted, rubbing your thigh.

He was right, you would know as well. You’ve told him the same thing before when he’d be upset about something.

"I just..." You sighed as you sat up, already feeling embarrassed about your upcoming confession. "I haven't been feeling very pretty lately." Joosts face turned into an immediate frown.

"How? What's not pretty about you?" He sounded almost insulted, insulted by the fact you would think so negatively about you.

"My face looks wrong. My body looks wrong. I’ve got a tummy on me. I don't know. I don’t know how to explain it exactly, I just don't feel attractive." You sighed, dragging your hands down your face.

“We all have a tummy. I’ve got a tummy.” He poked his stomach, smiling looking at it and then back up at you.

You shook your head as an amused smile spread on your face, you pulled the duvet off the rest of your body due to the heat becoming uncomfortable.

“You know what I mean, Joost.” You silently groaned and put your face into your hands.

“I do. But I don’t care.” Joosts voice was smooth as he removed your hands from your face, your eyes were already watering, he let out a sympathetic hum.

“You might not think it. But you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

You knew Joost was telling the truth. Anytime he would look at you, he felt like he was looking at an a real life angel sent by God himself.

You were just too far deep in the rabbit hole of your negative self talk.

Tears began to slip from your eyes and you turned your head away, Joost still had his hands cupped lightly around your face.

“I’m sorry. You know I don’t look pretty when I cry.” You sniffled, wiping away tears with the back of your hand. “My face gets all pink and blotchy.”

Joost gently turned your face back to him, taking in all your beautiful features.

“I love your face. Even if it’s all pink and blotchy.” His words got a small laugh out of you, he grinned .

“You really think so?” You asked, voice still shaky.

“I know so.” He wiped away another tear from your cheek with his thumb. This was cliché, but you loved it. You loved him.

“I can prove it to you, if you want?” Joost raised his brows, you knew exactly what he was suggesting. You nodded happily.

He quickly put his lips against yours, kissing so passionately. So sweetly.

“I wanna make a deal, ja?” Joost said in between kisses. You nodded.

“I’m gonna show you how beautiful you are.” He kisses the corner of your mouth. “I’m going to tell you, show you until you know it’s true.” He kisses the other side. “And then…you’re gonna tell me how pretty you are, then I’ll make you cum. Ja?”

“Joost..” You mumbled out, flustered already.

“You okay with that deal?” He kissed your lips gently, brushing some hair out your face.

“Okay. Okay. We have a deal.” You giggled, eyes closing.

“Good.” He smiled, the type of smile that made you feel like you could melt straight into the sheets. He kissed you one more time before moving his lips along your jaw.

He moved his hand, rubbing his thumb softly over your bottom lip.

“You know how much I love your lips.” He ran his mouth along your jaw, before moving to hover his face over yours.

“And your nose. This cute little nose.” He gave you a peck just on the tip of your nose, tapping it after and making a little boop! noise.

His antics got a small sniffle and laugh out of you. God, he was so silly. So unserious in such an intimate moment like this. You loved it. It made your nervousness fade away.

He moved to kiss both your eyelids next, so silly.

“Your eyes, I could stare into them all day if you didn’t think it was so creepy.” He chuckled. “Zo mooi. Ik zie je gezicht in mijn dromen.” He whispered, quickly moving his mouth to your neck. Your breath hitched as he placed sloppy kisses all over it.

His mouth ran over that sweet spot that made you let out a soft whimper, you could feel his smirk against your skin.

“Mijn mooie meisje.” His breath against your neck tickled, making you inch away from it.

His hands began to slide underneath your baggy sweatshirt, sliding up and down before going up one last time and bringing your sweatshirt with him.

He soon did the same with your sweatpants as he moved his lips along your collarbones, you lifted your lips to help remove them. He tossed them on the floor, along with your top.

He pulled away from your skin to look at you in complete awe. You were a bit embarrassed due to your extremely plain underwear, you didn’t bother to put on a bra this morning. If you knew you’d be getting intimate today, you would’ve worn something nicer.

Yet Joost didn’t care, his face didn’t care at all. Still staring at you like you were a dream come true. You were.

“Can’t believe you’d want to hide such a gorgeous body like this.” He grazed his fingers down your arm, grabbing your hand and lifting it up to your mouth, kissing your knuckles.

Your hands came up unconsciously to conceal your chest. Joost didn’t let this happen. He intertwined his hands with each of yours, holding them against the mattress.

“Aw, no hiding. I wanna see these pretty tits of yours.” You bit your lip and turned your head away, surprised at his explicit words.

He quickly brought his lips to your chest, kissing all over it. Between the valley of your breasts, above and below them. Finally placing his mouth on one of them.

A sharp gasp let out of you, Joost chuckled against you. Sucking and nipping at your breast, leaving red and purpling hickies.

He took your nipple into his mouth, making you squirm and arch your back slightly, he moved one hand to your other breast. Squeezing and playing with it for a little before switching his mouths attention to that one.

He didn’t need words to tell you how much he loved your tits. The messy kisses from his mouth were enough.

He ignored the way his dick was hardening in his pants at the sounds of your whimpers and breaths of pleasure. This evening, he was focusing on you, and you only.

He trailed his lips down, stopping at your stomach. He dragged his hands down, sliding them to the sides of your waist and squeezing, making you shiver.

“You know how much I love your tummy. I can’t count the amount of times I’ve fallen asleep when I lay my head on it.” He pressed a kiss just below your bellybutton. “Such a cute stomach, I don’t get how you could be so embarrassed of such a beautiful tummy like this.”

You weren’t sure how your stomach could be beautiful. But then you remembered all the times you thought the same about Joosts, going insane over the sight of it.

“All day all I do is want to hold you. I dream about it when I’m away. Did you know that?” He looked up at you, he looked like a goddamn dream.

You shook your head and he gave you a dramatic pout.

“No? I guess I should’ve told you sooner.” He moved his hands and squeezed your hips, another giggle escaped you.

He trailed small, slow, pecks above the waistband of your underwear. Soon hooking his fingers underneath and pulling them down your legs. Kissing your thighs as he did so.

He parted your legs with gentle hands, letting out a coo of adoration at the sight of you. You blushed and bit your finger, turning your head to the side.

He brought a tattooed hand back up to the side of your face, turning your gaze back to him as his thumb smoothed over your cheek.

He smiled at you with a face of pure infatuation. Not needing words to say how he felt about you once again.

He leaned down, eloping his lips around yours as you brought your head up from the pillow, pushing into the kiss.

A finger came up to your clit, gathering your wetness, you let a shaky breath into his mouth.

“It’s okay.” He smiled. Making a beeline of kisses all the way down until his mouth stopped right above your clit.

He held onto your thighs, bringing them up and squeezing the plush of them in his hands, bending your legs.

“Oh, so soft. I’d live in between your legs if you let me.”

“Naughty boy.” You giggled.

“Just being truthful.” He shrugged, he watched in adoration as he rubbed his middle finger in between your folds, his finger already covered in your slick. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

He carefully inserted his finger inside you, staring at your face with a smile, watching how your mouth parted, eyes fluttering.

He came back up as his finger slowly pushed in and out, watching your face up close as he inserted a second finger.

“You ready to tell me what you are? Hm?” You tried your best to look at him as you let out a whiny moan. Which was your way of saying “Not really.”

“No? Then I should stop here, ja?” His fingers slowly began to pull out.

“Nononono. Pleasepleaseplease.” You breathed out, grabbing his hand to keep it from fully pulling away. He let out a defeated sigh.

“You’re lucky you’re so stunning. I’ll let you get away with it for now.” He kissed your cheek.

You let go of his wrist as his fingers began to pick up their pace once again, your eyes fluttering shut and mouth parting will small gasps.

He moved his mouth back to your chest, sucking at your tits, leaving little lovebites, you knew you’d be covered in red and purple marks by tomorrow.

He continued that same pattern of kissing trailing down until he reached your cunt.

“Cmon liefje, I need you to tell me how beautiful you are.” He rubbed his head against your thigh.

You shook your head as you bit down on your lip, eyes squeezing shut, you were already close to an orgasm.

“Hm, if you’re not gonna tell me, then I guess we’ll stop here.” He shrugged, puffing out his bottom lip as he removed his fingers from you.

“No!” You whined out at the sudden emptiness, cunt clenching around nothing. “Joost, you’re being mean.” You whined, hips squirming.

“Mm, I’m being fair. You tell me you’re pretty and I will let you cum.” He flicked a finger quickly against your clit, he grinned at the way your body jerked.

“Just admit what we both know is true.” He said in a sing-song voice. You rolled your eyes, frustrated.

“If you just tell me then I’ll give you want you want, liefje.” He teased again.

“Fine. I’m pretty.” You mumbled, you saw the way Joosts face perked up.

“Speak up schatje, I cannot hear you.” He could hear you, but he wanted to hear you loud and clear.

“I’m pretty.” You said, much louder this time.

“How pretty?” He cocked his head in a mocking manner, resting it against the plush of your thigh as his fingers slowly increased their speed.

Was he really doing this? Bastard.

“Really pretty. Fuck- I’m really pretty.” You said through shaky breaths.

“Ja, keep going.” He encouraged, licking a stripe up your cunt as his fingers pumped into you, and you whined again, he loved how flustered you looked.

He was eating you out like a man starved, his tongue deep and swirling circles around your clit, you weren’t even sure you’d be able to speak any coherent words.

“I’m pretty. God, fuck- I’m really pretty, Joost.” Your back began to arch off the bed, your hand reaching down to grip his hair as he hummed against your core.

“I’m so pretty, Joost. So so pretty, please. I’m beautiful, god. Fuck. Please, I’m pretty.” You begged, repeating it like it was a mantra. This was exactly Joosts goal.

“Dat klopt.” He pulled away from you to praise, his breath fanning against your cunt before he attached his lips back to it, beginning to suck on your clit.

Joost held onto your hips to still them. Your legs began to shake and the moans leaving you were borderline pornographic, loud and dramatic. But they were real, not forced.

“Joost, please, Joost. I’m pretty. Please can I cum? Please?” You begged, tears forming in your eyes. All the teasing before this made you so sensitive.

“Go ahead.” The vibration of his voice added to the pleasure, his fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot.

Finally, finally you were cumming. The waves of your orgasm crashing over you, the intensity making the tears in your eyes fall and trail down the sides of your face. Joost continued as you rode through the aftershock, squealing and crying out as your grip on his hair tightened. He moaned against your dripping core.

He finally pulled away once your moans became raspy and you were squirming around. His chin covered in your wetness while he had the most prideful cheesy grin on his face.

“Mijn prachtige meisje. You did so good. So good for me.” He whispered against your skin, pressing small kisses all around your pussy and onto your thighs. Your body twitched with each peck, already overstimulated from all the teasing he did.

He crawled back up to hover over you, wiping the tears that fell with a gentle hand. A saccharine smile on his face to match the saccharine kiss he gave you next. You were still so shaky and out of breath, eyes droopy as you looked at him.

“Feel any better?” He ran his fingers through your hair, scratching at your head, you leaned into his touch.

“Yeah…actually. Yeah.” You gave him a puzzled smile, not expecting this to actually work.

“See. I knew you’d try for me.” He smooched your forehead.

“I’m really sweaty, I need a bath.” You laughed, still breathless.

“I’ll run you one.” He sighed playfully, knowing that your words were a request.

“Will you carry me?” He let out another chuckle, shaking his head in amusement before scooping you up bridal style.

“I can never say no to you.”

[yoursdeadlynightshade]

Under the stars | Words 1.4k

The night air is cool against Regulus's skin, biting into his exposed cheeks and neck though it isn’t cold enough to drive him back indoors.

The silence between them is comfortable, easy, broken only by occasional rustling of grass as James shifts beside him, lying flat on his back, eyes heavily focused on the endless night sky.

The stars above twinkle lazily, making the dark sky seem like a blanket full of shiny things. Instead of their usual place—the Astronomy tower—James has insisted they come out here—has dragged Regulus by the arm wearing the same maddening grin. 

There’s something magnetic about James, something that makes it hard to say no, even when Regulus wants to.

Now they lay side by side, arms touching gently, stretched out on the damp grass right in the middle of the quidditch pitch. 

But for once, James is unbelievably quiet. 

And Regulus likes him this way. Not that James’s talking was entirely unbearable—no, that isn’t it. But there is something about the silence that makes Regulus feel… less alone.

“There.” James breaks the stillness, lifting an arm to point toward the sky, his voice barely above a whisper. “That one. It looks like a broomstick, doesn’t it?”

Regulus follows the direction of James’s outstretched hand, squinting at the constellation James is referring to. He tilts his head, trying to make sense of it, but all he sees is a jumble of stars.

He snorts. “That’s not even close to a broomstick, James.” 

James laughs softly, not the loud, boisterous sound Regulus is used to hearing, but a quieter, more intimate chuckle. “Yeah, well… maybe I just see things differently.”

There’s something in his tone that makes Regulus pause, something beneath the usual playful teasing. He turns his head slightly to glance at James, but James is still looking up, his expression softer than Regulus has ever seen it.

“You know,” James continues, voice lower now, like he’s confessing something he isn’t meaning to. “Every time I look up at the stars… I think of you.”

Regulus’s heart dances in his chest. “What?”

“Yeah.” James finally turns his head to meet Regulus’s gaze, brown eyes shining with something soft. “You’re like that, you know? Always there. Quiet. Distant. But… kind of beautiful.”

The words hit Regulus like a punch to the chest. Beautiful. No one has ever called him that, not in a way that feels real, not in a way that matters. And yet, hearing it from James Potter of all people makes something inside him break loose.

He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but the words stick in his throat.

“You’re messing with me,” he finally chokes out, voice full of accusation. 

James’s smile doesn’t falter. “I don’t lie when it comes to you, Regulus.’’

There’s a sincerity in his voice that makes Regulus’s heart race, a sincerity that terrifies him. He’s used to people wanting things from him—affection, loyalty, obedience—but James doesn’t seem to want anything. Just this moment. Just the stars and the quiet and Regulus by his side.

“Are you alright?’’

“Why wouldn’t I be?’’

“James,’’ Regulus murmurs, his fingers gently covering James’ hand. “Please, just tell me.”

“I think… I think—I’m not in love with Evans anymore.’’

Regulus’ mouth hangs agape at the same time his heart skips a beat. He’s ready to embrace hurt. Of course, James might be hurt over it. 

“Oh,’’ he whispers, barely audible. “You… wanna talk about it?’’

“I don’t know. Not really. I feel like,’’ James chokes, eyes squeezing shut. “I feel like I’ve been chasing an idea not a— not a person. And I hate myself for it.”

“James. James, don’t be. It’s alright to mess up our lives a bit you know?’’ Regulus mutters, “No one hands us a guideline to live our lives. It’s in our hands to do so. It’s normal and accepted to be flawed and to be filled with some mistakes.”

“I know. That’s not all to it either.”

“Oh.”

James hesitates, his breath hitching like he’s on the verge of death. “I’m in love with this person,” he whispers, his voice shaking but determined. “I’m so in love with them. When they smile—god, when they smile, I can’t breathe. It’s like everything in me stops. And when their eyes catch the light, when they look at me and there’s that spark…” He lets out a strangled laugh. “It’s everything. They’re everything. I want to hold them, protect them, and love them. And it’s driving me mad because I don’t know what to do with it.”

Regulus feels his stomach drop, the words sinking in with the force of a tidal wave. His mind spins with the realisation, with the crushing weight of what James is saying. James is in love. Deeply, irrevocably in love with someone else.

Not him, again. But with someone else, again.

“So… does she not feel the same way? Is that why you’re upset?” 

James blinks, his brow furrowing. “She?”

“Huh?” 

“Not a she,” James murmurs quietly, as if the truth is finally slipping from his grasp.

Oh, a boy then. 

Regulus swallows hard. “That’s alright, too. I mean, I’m literally gay, James. I—”

“I’m in love with you,” James interrupts, his voice trembling but unyielding, “It’s you, Reg. You are the person I’m in love with”

The world falls silent.

Regulus’s mouth hangs open, his mind struggling to catch up with what he has just heard. His heart pounds  so loudly in his ears that it drowns out the rest of the world, leaving nothing but the echo of James’s words. 

“What?” 

James’s eyes are desperate now, searching Regulus’s face for any sign.

“It’s you, Regulus,” he repeats, his voice softer, more vulnerable. “You make me feel all those things. I love you. I’m in love with you.”

James Potter is in love with him. Not with someone else this time.

He tries to process it, trying to make sense of the rapid, frantic beating of his heart, the way his chest aches with the force of it all. 

James’s face is pale, his eyes wide and filled with something raw—fear, maybe, or hope. “I’m sorry,” James whispers, the words trembling in the night air. “I didn’t mean to— I just couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. I had to tell you.”

Regulus’s breath hitches, his throat tight with the overwhelming wave of emotions crashing through him. He wants to speak, wants to say something—anything—that’ll make this easier, but the words were stuck, lodged somewhere deep in his chest.

“James…” His voice is barely audible, a whisper in the wind.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just… I needed you to know.” 

Suddenly, everything clicks into place. The late nights spent together, the way James’s smile always seemed softer when it was just the two of them, the way his eyes lingered on Regulus a little too long, the way his jokes had always seemed a little more tender, a little more meaningful.

Regulus’s hands tremble as he moves, his fingers brushing against James’s arm, tentative, unsure. James’s head snaps up, his wide eyes locking onto Regulus’s, and for a moment, they just stare at each other, the world around them fading away.

“You love me?” Regulus asks, his voice barely more than a breath.

James swallows hard, his gaze unwavering. “Yeah, Reg. I love you.”

And at that moment, Regulus knew. He knew because his heart feels lighter, like it’s finally free after being caged for so long. He knows because he wants to reach out and pull James into his arms, to feel the warmth of him, the solidity of him, and never let go.

“I think…” Regulus’s voice cracks, and he takes a shaky breath, “I think I might love you, too.”

James eyes go wide, breath catching. “You think?’’

“No, I—” Regulus shakes his head. Not think, no. He knows. “I know.”

Before Regulus can second-guess himself, he closes the distance between them, his lips crashing against James’s in a kiss that was all at once fierce and tender, desperate and gentle.

James kisses him back with the same intensity, his hands finding their way to Regulus’s face, holding him like he was something precious, something he can’t bear to lose. 

And in that moment, under the stars and the cool night breeze, everything finally made sense.

James pulls back, just enough to rest his forehead against Regulus’s, his breath coming in short, shaky bursts. “You really mean it?” he asks, his voice full of hope and disbelief.

Regulus smiles, something soft and real. “Yeah, I really mean it.”

And for the first time in quite a long time, James Potter looks like he isn’t lost anymore. He looks like he’s home.

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

In Love and War (8)

Summary: The aftermath of all her family secrets might be more chaotic than Reader bargained for when her powers suddenly start to flare. Good thing her Warlord has more than a few ideas how to help navigate it ;)

Content Warnings: Depressive thoughts, Reader mentions wanting to die; Suggestiveness, Slight SMUT; Canon Typical Violence

Author's Note: To make up for the last chapter being so short, please enjoy that flirty little bastard being a menace! ;)

Chapter 7/Masterlist

---------------

I don’t sleep at all that night. I lay there, Rhysand sleeping soundly beside me, exhausted from the events of the last couple of days. He’d barely kept his eyes open long enough to eat. I’d barely managed to choke down a few bites myself. The guilt has my stomach in a perpetual knot. I’ve dedicated so much of my life to hating this male, only to be wrong about all of it, and now I’m in too deep to even do anything about it.  I can’t go home. There is no home to go back to. My family slaughtered an innocent mother and daughter. Rhys received their heads in boxes like some sort of twisted gift. They were supposed to be allies and my father betrayed them in the worst possible way. He paid for it with his life, with my mother’s life; it should have been the end of it. Tamlin was given a mercy and he should have taken it. He should have abandoned my father’s teachings and become a better lord, a better man. Instead, he perpetuated the cycle of abuse and suffering. He encouraged me to hate these people, to covet everything they had as if they were undeserving of it. All these years I loathed our miserable existence thinking the Mother hated us and was being unjust in giving these people all these things that we were never allowed. But we deserved it! We were the bad guys all along.

I roll over onto my side to look at him. He still sleeps in his armor, knife still strapped to his thigh, sword resting against the tent pole only a foot away. He’s ready to be up and fighting in a moment's notice. Our father’s were so similar, and yet, he turned out to be merciful and kind and somehow, so startlingly gentle that I often forget he’s still capable of intense prowess. He is the only male I’ve ever truly felt comfortable with, because that gentleness came as a response to the violence he’d seen, not because that violence was never there. He’d felt the cold sting of it, and chose to be something gentle instead of returning it.

And here I am, with all that righteous anger that had kept me warm on my coldest days, choosing to return all the violence that had been inflicted on me onto others. Just as Tamlin did. Just as my father did. 

And looking at it I don’t want to be him. He ruined my mother! He took something good and kind and locked it away and used her for his own ends! I don’t even know if he ever really loved her. Why would you keep the things you love in a cage?

I sit up abruptly. Maybe he was as scared of being alone as I am. 

I can’t sit in this tent anymore! I can’t-

Rhysand jolts awake as soon as I move, hand twitching for his knife, shadows swirling off his body in response to what his sleep muddled mind thinks is a threat. “What’s wrong?”

I put a hand on his chest, spinning onto my knees so I can kiss his forehead. “Nothing, I just need to relieve myself.”

He lets me push him down onto the mat, body relaxing and pliant beneath my touch. “You sure?”

“Positive.” If he tried to follow me out now I think I really might explode. My stomach feels like it's ripping itself apart. My bones ache, my skin feels like it's stretched too tight over them. There is too much nervous energy bound inside my body. I just need to get out and stretch my legs; get some fresh air and clear my head. I will be fine if I can clear my head.

“Take your knife,” he says, eyes already drifting shut again. 

I strap it to my thigh as I slip from the tent, gulping down lungfuls of crisp, mountain air as I go. I just need to clear my head. Is finding a way to survive this fucked up world really me acting like my father? I’ve never killed innocent people. I’ve never withheld necessities or lorded my power over people. I’m just not being honest about my intentions. It’s shitty. I’m using a mating bond I’m still not wholly sure is real as a means to getting food and shelter and, hopefully, a decent helping of mind blowing sex.

Cauldron that sounds really, really fucked up.

But how am I supposed to tell him? Hey, I know that you really don’t like my family and they’ve done nothing but screw you over but I also accepted your offer to try and ruin your life and take all of your land and kinda only just changed my mind about it yesterday. And it would be really super cool if you just let that slide because I have nowhere else to go.

That would go over soooooo well. He’d be totally fine with it! 

I ground my palms into my eyes as I walk behind a couple trees to at least make it look like I really did need to go pee. There are men on guard duty, no doubt someone is going to see me wandering around camp.

My brain feels like it’s being squeezed by my skull. There has to be a way to go about this that doesn’t get me tossed out into the coming snow, while also not lying so deeply about it. I do care about him. It was a lie at first but now…

I put my back against the tree and slide down until I’m sitting on the rocky ground, head still in my hands. I don’t know if he’s my mate. There’s something there, I feel it pulling at me, even now, but I can’t give it a name. And I want to be here. Not just because of the story he’d told yesterday. When Lucien tried to get me to leave, I really didn’t want to go back with him. But how am I supposed to live with the truth? How am I supposed to look at him and see that he wants this so much more than I do, despite everything?

Actually, why does he want this, despite everything? He’d asked me why I stayed. I never asked him why he brought me here. There’s certainly enough bad blood between our families to make even a mate hesitate to bring me in.

I lean back against the tree, the rough scrape of the bark against my aching skin a relief. My body feels so strange, being around Rhysand’s magic has made it feel like there’s something beneath my skin.

Tomorrow, in the morning, I will ask him why he still brought me back. Then I will decide what to do. 

------

He certainly doesn’t make asking him easy. Rhys wakes me up with his lips on my throat, along the fading marks he’d left a couple days before,  trailing them down as his hands hike up my sweater. The heat of him against the early morning chill has my resolve slipping, all my plans slipping through my fingers as he runs his tongue over my peaked nipples.

I can’t think past the roaring in my ears; the ache in my body for more, more, more. There is nothing and no one but him as he trails lower, each kiss more forceful than the last as he heads for the waistband of my pants.

“Rhys,” I moan, voice still thick with sleep, even as my body arches under him. I want him everywhere. I need him everywhere. The stirring feeling beneath my skin is worse today, only quelled by the trail of his hands on my body. For once, my racing thoughts are quiet. If only we could stay like this. 

“Hmmm,” he hums into my stomach, just beneath my navel. There’s a bit of stubble along his jaw, the scrape of it against my oversensitive skin makes my eyes roll back into my head. “Did you want something, mate?”

“You,” I groan, hand reaching out to tangle in his hair to try and move him where I need him. 

He grins, I can feel the upturn of his lips against my stomach, but he refuses to budge. Just nips at the skin visible above my waistline. “You have me.”

Bastard! My whole body trembles beneath him. I can’t get a breath down fast enough. I need him everywhere all at once. “Need you inside me,” I bite out.

He simply hums again, hands tugging at my waistband with an inhumane slowness that makes me feel like I’m going to burst out of my skin. I use the hand not in his hair to grip the mat, trying to ground myself, trying to find some semblance of control again. I’m gripping so tight my bones ache, fingers feeling like they’re breaking. There’s a tearing sound, a pricking sensation in my palm and then a gush of something wet across my hand. 

Even he looks up at that, and when I turn to look, I’m more than a little surprised to find that I’ve grown claws, and I’ve just tore them right through my hand!

“Shit!” He’s gone from between my legs in an instant, all the heat in my body leaving with him. 

I can’t unfurl my hand. Can’t retract the claws, they’re stuck through my palm with my fist closed around it. I’ve only ever grown them in anger, how the hell had I done it now?

Rhysand comes back with a towel as I manage to sit up. “I thought you smelled different this morning,” he muses.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I hiss.

“Our magic can be protective. It can hide itself if it doesn’t feel safe. I don’t think you were born with too little, I think you were born with too much.” His fingers massage my wrist, trying to find the right pressure points to help me unclench my fist. “I think that it buried itself inside you to keep you safe. And I think, now that you’re here, it’s manifesting, and like the wards, it has its own scent.”

Fan-fucking-tastic!

“Well I’d like it to un-manifest,” I hiss. “I was doing just fine without it!” There’s blood dripping through the towel, if anything it feels like my claws are burrowing deeper into my palm. I can practically feel them trying to tear right through the back of my hand.

He can’t seem to find the right spot and trying to pry my fingers out of my palm is a no go. He frowns, lifting the towel for a better look. “I’m gonna try something.”

I’m prepared for a blow from his own magic, some form of glittering starlight or shadowy darkness, I am not prepared for him to kiss me again. The sound I make in surprise is somewhere between a growl and a gasp because what the hell is he doing? But even though my head is struggling to catch up, my body is not. On instinct, I lean back to allow him better access, his tongue slipping behind my teeth. The rolling feeling beneath my skin lessens, the tightness in my palm slowly releasing. I thread my functioning hand through his hair as my body gives what I can only describe as a sigh of relief. A moment later, the claws retract and I can finally unfurl my fist.

“Flair ups can be heavily tied to your emotions,” he says, lips barely off mine. “Probably wasn’t the best idea to tease you in the middle of one.” 

It takes him all of thirty seconds to find some rags and tie up my hand, even though the blood flow is already lessening. All I can do is stare at it while he does it. This is certainly a new and unwelcome development to this whole mess.

“Is that going to keep happening?”

Azriel pops his head into our tent, unannounced as usual. “Are you two done in here or what? I, personally, cannot live with Cassian if he beats us around the mountain.”

“We’ll be right there,” Rhysand huffs.

“I’m seeing a trend with him,” I mutter. 

He smirks, “It’s one of Azriel’s many charms.” 

He helps me to my feet, holding onto me like he thinks something else might just burst out of my skin. Truth be told, I can still feel something shifting around, a prowling animal begging to be released from its cage. I’d thought it was my unease this whole time, but maybe it’s worse than that. 

“We don’t know how deep your power well is,” Rhysand says. “And if it’s never fully manifested…” He blows out a breath. “When mine first started manifesting, I shredded a whole section of camp with starlight. There was a whole twenty-four hour period where my shadows blocked out the sun. And you’re my equal so, yes I think that will keep happening.”

Cauldron boil me!

“As long as you remain calm, it shouldn’t be too bad.”

“I should think you would know better than to tell a female to be calm, Rhysand.”

He grins, “Well you can also spend the day making out with me, since that seems to be such a lovely little distraction with you.”

I go to hiss an insult at him but the only thing that comes out is an actual, animal-like growl. I clamp a hand over my mouth in embarrassment while he bursts out laughing. 

“This is going to be fun!” He declares.

I am not at all inclined to agree.

----

I only manage to ride with him for an hour or two before the pull of his magic makes my skin start to itch. He was right about magic having a scent. Half way through the hour I suddenly become very aware of the jasmine scent of him. It’s everywhere. In every breath. Every brush of his chest against my back, every movement of his hands along the reins. My body is hyper aware of every place we do and don’t touch.

“Getting all worked up again, aren’t we?” He purrs in my ear.

My jaw feels like it’s snapping as a set of fangs tear through my gums, spurting blood into my mouth. Somehow his magic is the catalyst for my transformation and the balm all in one. I can’t be near him and I can’t be away from him, as I soon learn. When I jump off the horse and declare I’m going to walk beside him, my claws return, in both hands this time. At least they shoot out my nail beds and not my knuckles like Tamlin’s.

The thought of him makes another growl rumble through my chest and something that feels suspiciously like fur sprouts from the back of my neck.

“Wouldn’t recommend,” Rhysand warns.

The itchiness of my skin is even worse on the ground. I feel the wards tugging at me like I’ve been tied to the glittering magic that builds them with a string.  The jasmine and overripe fruit scent of them is enough to make my nose crinkle. Apparently the transformation heightens my senses as well.

“I’m gonna tear off my skin,” I snarl, fidgeting with my collar. Why is it so itchy? Is it supposed to be like this?

He slows his mount to keep pace with me and I do not miss the grumbled complaints of the males behind us. My ears twitch every time one of them speaks, the sound sometimes like a shout and others like a far off echo.

“Breathe,” he says gently. “The more worked up you get, the worse it will be until we can find a way to safely expel it.”

I draw a shaky breath, then another. 

“Good girl.”

A shiver works its way up my spine at that.

“Now come here,” he leans so far out of the saddle he’s only holding on with his thighs, and my first thought is how we can get this little caravan to pause so I can be the one beneath him. He gets an arm around my waist and hauls me back up onto the horse and damn if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen a male do!

“Let’s get these wards up-” I’m hyper-aware how every word rumbles through his chest, the way his body shifts on the horse. “-And we’ll find a place to camp soon enough, then you and I can work on this.”

“Make it stop,” I gently beg. “I don’t want it!” The itch beneath my skin is becoming unbearable! My claws scratch up my arms, tearing up my sweater. 

His free hand covers mine, intertwining our fingers, even as the horse begins to move. “Focus on me.”

I focus my attention on the way his body molds against mine. The way the leather of his glove slides over the back of my hand. I let my eyes drift shut, focusing on the brush of his chest against mine, the swaying motion of his hips as the horse moves over the rocky terrain. It’s not enough. Not like the feel of his lips on mine had been this morning. As if he knows it, he drops his head against my shoulder, nose brushing over the exposed skin of my throat. 

“I’m right here,” he continues. “Focus on me, just like you did this morning.”

This morning there had been a lot less clothes between us. 

“Breathe for me.”

It is a physical effort to draw a deep enough breath in; another to pull my claws away from my itching skin. He settles our joined hands against my stomach. 

“Again.”

I manage to do what I am told, just barely. 

“Good. Just like that.” His voice makes a shiver run down my spine as my mind spins with all the other things I want him to talk me through. I think I could do just about anything if he explained it to me in that rich, husky voice he was using in my ear. “Part of learning to control it is finding your center. Find a safe mental space to retreat to.”

“Like what?” There are few places in the world I have ever felt safe. Thinking about how I used to sit in the rocking chair with my mother and listen to her stories only fills me with pain now. Or perhaps a couple weeks ago I might have thought about all those summers I spent at the creek with Lucien, but now it only makes the thing beneath my skin rumble and shake like there’s some sort of animal that lives caged beneath my ribs and is trying desperately to break free. What makes me feel safe?

“A good memory, a happy time,” he lists. 

I have nothing. My eyes start to water and my throat starts to close, talons growing longer and sharper at my fingertips. I feel the give of my leather chest-piece beneath them. Everything good in my life has been a lie! Everyone that was supposed to protect me only ever hurt me in the end. None of it was ever real.

And this, this thing that could be something, that could be real, I had ruined it. I have to lie to keep it. I have to pretend that I had every right to hurt him, when it was really the other way around. The only person who had ever told me the truth, who could see me for what I was, and I had ruined any chance of it being real before it had even had the chance to start.

A sob slips out of me and with it, the tree we pass erupts in a flurry of leaves and twisting, screaming bark that makes the horse rear. The earth rumbles, random cracks splitting in the rock face, gnarled vines crawling out of them like tentacled monsters. The itching in my skin won’t stop! The more I try to trap it the more the world around us screams in protest. 

“Breathe, Y/N,” Rhysand orders in my ear. “You have to breathe.”

“I can’t!” I choke out. 

He slides his hand out of mine and brings it up against the side of my temple. It feels like a shadow unfurling from his fingertips, but the brush of it is not against my face, but inside my skull. Darkness clouds my vision from the inside out. It feels as if my brain is being emptied, piece by piece with shadows until there is nothing inside my mind but him. 

“Breathe,” he commands, the voice of a Warlord. “Now.”

I choke on each breath. 

“You are safe, Y/N,” he says, gentler. There is nothing in the world but the two of us in this dark little bubble. Nothing but the press of night chilled jasmine and calming, all consuming night. From somewhere far off, I hear music on the wind, the swell of stringed instruments pulling my attention away from the itch running beneath my skin.

“Why is this happening?” My body feels so impossibly small, yet like it’s being stretched beyond its capacity, my bones trying to tear through the confines of my skin all the same.

“Our powers can very easily get tangled with our emotions,” he explains, the hand on my temple drawing shapes into my skin. Somehow, after looking at the stitches in the tent walls, I know he’s spelling something out in Illyrian, but I’ll never know what. “The last twenty-four hours have been a lot for you, I’m sure.”

There is no room to think about it in this headspace, no twisted memories to plague me, only the music and the faint twinkle of stars for company. I let myself fall into it, let it swallow me and fill me until I feel disconnected from the pulling of my skin.

“I don’t want this power,” I whisper into the darkness.

The darkness caresses me, wraps itself around me as surely as his arm around my waist. “I know, but we don’t get a say in what we’re given, only what we do with it.”

When have I ever truly had a say in anything?

“What if I hurt somebody?” What if I am just as bad as my father in both intentions and power? If I am capable of plotting to ruin someone’s life based on a lie, how much more capable am I of turning these claws on someone else? Maybe power is passed from my mother, but that will never change the fact that I now carry the same weapons that were used to scar me, and Rhys, and probably his mother and sister. 

“You won’t,” he assures. “I’ll be right here to teach you. You can control it.”

He has far more faith in me than he should.

----

Once we’ve stopped for the night and camp is set up, Rhysand takes me by the hand and leads me out into the empty, grassy plains beneath the mountain. The knee-high yellow blades are brittle this time of year, cracking under our boots as we walk until only the smoke from the campfires pinpoints where we left the others. We’re far enough away that I won’t hurt anyone if I lose control again.

Shame flushes my cheeks. I’ve always prided myself on being the calm one of the family; always able to keep my emotions shoved deep down beneath the surface to keep them from getting the better of me. I thought I was good at it. I was wrong. It’s only been the constant brush of Rhysand’s shadows against my mind all afternoon that have kept me from tearing everything I touch to shreds. Even now, my hands ache from often my new claws have sprung and retracted from my fingertips.

I must feel about as awful as Rhysand looks. The circles under his eyes have not lessened in the slightest, and every once in a while I’ll see him start to sway, like it’s an effort to stay on his feet. The scent of his magic has lessened, the night blooming jasmine fading behind the citrus and salty scent of him. He shouldn’t be out here with me, he should be resting, recharging his own magic so he can be prepared for more warding tomorrow. According to Azriel and the scouts’ reports, we should meet up with Cassian and Mor’s group by this time tomorrow and Rhysand will need all his energy to ensure both ends of the wards are fully meshed together. 

We stop once we’re cushioned between two large hills, nothing but the chirp of crickets and the stars to keep us company. The Mountain looms dark and shadowy beneath the small sliver of the moon. 

“This looks like a good place,” he says as he finally releases my hand.

I keep my lower lip between my teeth, hands shaking at my sides. I don’t want to do this! Entertaining the idea that I have powers to train and use is foolish. I don’t need to learn to use them; I need to learn to shove them back down into the darkest parts of me where they can’t hurt anybody. 

“Let’s start with something simple,” he suggests. “Tell me where you feel your power the most.”

My hand comes up to poke between my rib cage, where the stirring and itchy feeling is the most concentrated. “Feels like something is trying to break out of my skin,” I say softly.

“The claws and the fangs could be a beast form,” he muses. “Or it could just be some shape-shifting powers you inherited from your father?”

The mention of that bastard makes the stirring in my chest feel like a tidal wave, raw energy crackling so hard and fast through my veins that I feel it crest out my fingertips. The grass around me withers and dies, the ground beneath it crackling and rumbling with what feels like the early stages of an earthquake. I can’t have powers like my fathers!

There is no shortage of pity in those violet eyes and I press my palms into my eyes with a groan. I can’t do this! It needs to stop! I need to bury it now before it runs away with me; while I still have some control over it. Because if it goes any further than this…

Maybe Tamlin was right to send me away. Maybe he did know about my powers and that was why he got rid of me. I couldn’t hurt anybody if I was alone in the woods.

Rhysands shadows drift along the floor until they can slither up my calves, rubbing affectionately against me in a way that reminds me of a cat. “It’s ok,” he soothes.

Tears stream down my cheeks. “Make it stop!” I beg. “Show me how to bury it again.”

His shadows trail higher, winding over my hips and waist, even as he steps closer, leaving barely a breath between us. “Y/N…” he shakes his head, trying to find the right words and I feel a strange pang beneath the movement in my chest.

“Please,” I whimper. “I’ll do anything! Just make it stop.”

He cups my cheek and I give myself the briefest moment to fall into the warmth of his touch.  “I know it’s scary, and that it hurts, but this is good. It has to be released. You will die if you don’t.”

Then let me. The words freeze on my tongue when a tendril of his power flicks over his shoulder, down his wrist, to brush against my cheek, but that doesn’t stop the spiraling of my thoughts. Let me be free of this pain. Let me go out before I become a monster like my father. Let that awful bastard be right; let me be useless and worthless and incapable of doing anything he could be proud of. 

As if spurred on by my thoughts, the grass around me continues to wither, until there’s a whole circle of dead earth surrounding me. The harder I try to draw it in, the wider the circle becomes. Power sizzle through my nerve endings, a fire that digs itself into my veins and when I curl my hands into fists to try and stop it, I pull weeds through the cracks in the earth, the gnarled, leafy branches reaching up like skeletal hands that wrap around my, and Rhysand’s ankles.

“Focus on that spot,” his free hand taps gently against my ribs. “Focus until it feels like you’re holding it.”

I try to imagine the power like a bowl filled with sloshing, dark liquid. I imagine myself reaching for the lip of the bowl, the cracked edges and rough wood a mirror to the one that used to sit on our kitchen table, full of apples I’d sneak when no one was looking. If I make it familiar, it feels easier to focus on. I imagine every crack in the bowl, every worn edge, focusing until I get a mental hold around the edges. Now all I need to do is tip the bowl over. If I spill out its contents, there will be nothing left inside me to unleash… right?

“Once you can hold it, focus on containing it. Imagine it like a bottle, get all that energy into the bottle, and put a lid on the top,” Rhys says like he can hear my plans.

The liquid inside the bowl bubbles and hisses as my conflicted feelings run circles through my head. He hasn’t been wrong this far, I should do as he says, but I can’t help but feel like indulging this is a mistake. I can hear my father’s voice inside my head, telling me that this is not how females are supposed to behave. 

I can feel the weeds I’d summoned dying around me. Can feel every blade of grass as if it was somehow attached to my skin. The longer I hold that imaginary bowl, the more aware of this power I become, but it doesn’t feel like control. It just feels like more things pulling at me, trying to move me in directions I’ve never decided I want to go in. 

The ground rumbles beneath my boots again as my mental grip slips, and when I open my eyes the weeds, dead as they are now, have slithered all the way up my chest, reaching for my throat like some decrypt hand. 

The air leaves my lungs in a rush and with it, the dead vegetation crumbles and turns to dust on the wind.

Rhysand should be looking at me like I’m a monster. He should be stepping away, shadows swirling, that giant sword in hand. We are supposed to be enemies and he should be looking at me like I am one. But he’s not. He reaches out and brushes some of the ruined plant off my shoulder instead.

“It’s ok,” he assures. “No one gets it on their first try. Not even me.”

That compassion and understanding makes my chest ache worse than any restless power ever has. I don’t deserve it. I wish he would treat me like the horrible creature I am. He would be better off if he tossed me out into the woods like Tam.

He stiffens and I can’t help but wonder if I accidentally said that out loud because his eyes darken as he closes the gap between us and takes my face in his hands. “Maybe I’m taking the wrong approach.” His voice is clipped, husky. 

Good, maybe he can finally see me for what I really am.

I am wholly unprepared for him to crash his lips against mine. My brain short circuits, the agitation I feel morphing into that desperate, needy thing I had felt this morning. Just as I tilt my head back, lips parting to let him in, he pulls back. 

“Let’s play a game.”

The power in my chest feels like it’s going to rip out of my skin again. 

“Match what I do and you’ll get a reward,” he explains. “If you can’t…” He takes a step back and it is an effort not to chase after him, but the message is clear enough: Matching his efforts means his hands, his lips, his body is on me again, fail to do so, and he puts space between us. It shouldn’t work. It shouldn’t make me want to try, but I do. Gods I do! 

“Ok,” my voice shakes a little. In the back of my mind I still think it’s a bad idea. Maybe I will regret it in the end, but this thing between us is the only thing that makes sense. There is nothing between us when his lips are on mine. I need that distraction tonight.

He holds out a hand and a ball of shadows emerge, the tendrils of darkness crawling out from beneath his skin to form the swirling shape. “Find that spot in your chest and push it into your hand. It’s a part of you, it answers to you. Make it answer to you.”

I hold out my hand, matching his position and then close my eyes, reaching for that bowl of darkness again. Hesitantly, I tip it sideways, sloshing some of the dark liquid over the edge and imagine pulling it through my limbs. It makes my muscles spasm, my claws shooting out of my nail beds in defense.

“Breathe through it, you’ll pass out if you hold your breath.” 

Selfishly, I want to impress him. Want to show him I can. I want the reward of his lips on mine again. Want to not have to think about whether I should be doing this or that, the only thought in my head him and how good he feels. I do as he says, drawing in a breath as I keep pushing that bit of darkness in the direction I want it. It makes my head hurt, trying to focus so intently, but I’m nothing if not persistent. 

I feel the rumble of movement beneath my palm, and just when I’m starting to think that maybe I’m more capable than I thought, the tiniest, most wilted looking dandelion grows from my palm. And then immediately turns to ash. It’s the saddest excuse for power I’ve ever seen and I growl out a complaint like a literal beast as even the thing in my chest shows its disappointment.

Rhysand snorts out a laugh too, which makes it worse.

So much for powerful. 

He clears his throat as he steps back into my space. “It was a good attempt.”

“Don’t patronize me,” I hiss. “That was embarrassing.” 

He wraps his hand around my wrist and places his lips against my palm anyway, never mind that my claws are still out and drifting over his temple as he kisses right where my powers flared. “You still tried.”

I shiver at the contact of his plush lips against my skin, his breath warm against my palm. My senses are still incredibly heightened and even that bit of contact makes my skin buzz with excitement. 

He quirks a dark brow as he looks at me from where my hand is still pressed against his lips. “Try again for me?”

I nod, not trusting my voice when he’s looking at me like he wants to devour me. His pupils are blown wide, barely a ring of violet left to see. He keeps his lower lip between his perfect teeth as he watches me with an intensity that makes my thighs clench. 

Just like before, I imagine myself holding that bowl, this time, I draw a breath and tip it over, letting more of that strange darkness spill into the abyss that is my soul. It is strange to see it like this, to have some parts of it so clear and yet the rest of it is shrouded in fathomless depths. There might be anything living within the confines of my skin. I’d never bothered to look until now. 

I push it towards my fingertips, just as before. The same spasm in my muscles returns, a knot forming in my bicep that I do my best to ignore as I keep pushing my power towards my hand. I remind myself to breathe when it flares in my wrist, making my claws retract and pop back out. 

“Just like that,” Rhysand coaxes.

Cauldron his voice makes my insides feel like jelly. 

Crawling vines emerge one by one from beneath my palms, twining around my fingertips like tiny snakes. In the center sprouts another dandelion, a little taller than the last. I manage to hold it for all of five seconds before the knot in my bicep and wrist become too much and the vines and flower die together. My bones ache. How does he do this so easily?

“Better,” Rhysand praises as he places the next kiss on the inside of my wrist, his fingers massaging the knot forming there. 

“Is it supposed to hurt?” I grumble.

“It’s a process,” he murmurs into my skin, lips trailing higher, causing a shiver to run down my spine. “Think of it like building a muscle. The first couple days of using that muscle will hurt. You’ll be sore. But the more you build it, the stronger it becomes, and the less it hurts. Eventually, you’ll be able to perform bigger and bigger feats with less and less discomfort.” 

That sounds exhausting! 

I’m going to have to do this for the rest of my life? The thought sours my mood, once again turning my thoughts away from this lovely little distraction he’s been offering and back into the darkness that’s been threatening to overtake me all afternoon. 

I swear he can hear the thoughts spinning through my head as he suddenly nips at the tender flesh of the inside of my wrist. “You think you can give me one more?”

I have a headache just thinking about doing it again, but he keeps looking at me through those long lashes, the intensity in his gaze making all rational thought fly out the window. 

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promises, lips trailing higher. He’s so warm and intoxicating, I think he might be capable of making me do anything, as long as his lips remain on my skin.

I focus on that spot, paying extra attention to breathe as I reach for that imaginary bowl a third time. Maybe if I let myself relax, lean a little heavier into the warmth of his touch, and stop trying so hard to hold on so tight, it won't hurt so bad. It has been like fighting a tide all this time; if I relax, go with the wave, will that make it easier?

I imagine that darkness spilling from the bowl like water instead, letting it flow like a river. The path from my chest to my fingertips is kind of like a stream, right? The water bubbling and rushing through me. There must be something to that thought process, because, when I open my eyes, there are more vines twining around my fingers and wrist, but this time, tiny yellow and pink flowers bloom from them. There is nothing dead or angry crawling out from beneath my skin, but something beautiful and alive. My claws retract as the vines spin around my fingers.

I can’t help but grin as I look to Rhys for his approval. “I did it!”

He grins right back, the sight so dazzling I think I might just stand here for hours summoning flower after flower to see it again. “That’s my girl!”

Instinctively, spurred by the excitement rushing through my veins, I stretch up on my toes and place a quick kiss on his lips. “You’re a good teacher,” and I mean it. Whatever this is between us, I am grateful for him, even if this is all we have. “Thank you.”

He slides a hand in my hair and kisses me back. “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

I don’t know what it is I feel about it. It still feels wrong, or maybe it just feels different. Everything feels different these days, I’d rather not think too long about it. “Feels like I can breathe a little easier.” 

“Good.” He kisses me again. “We’ll practice some more tomorrow.”

I slide my hand into the silky strands of his hair, nails scraping lightly over his scalp as he rests his forehead on mine. I won’t let myself think about tomorrow, or about these new powers. There can only be this moment.

“Just promise me,” he continues, “that you’ll keep trying?”

“I might need some convincing,” I return, clinging to this distraction with every last bit of willpower I possess.

He grins at the challenge. This is the best I can give him today; the closest to the truth I can admit without laying everything bare. 

“I can be very persuasive,” he purrs and the next thing I know I am on my back in what’s left of the grass, the solid weight of him on top of me. “Maybe we should work on some self-defense while we’re at it. That was alarmingly easy.”

“The words every girl wants to hear when she’s beneath a man,” I retort.

“I just want you to be safe, is all,” he says as he kisses the tip of my nose. 

I reach up a hand and brush some of the hair that’s falling over his forehead into his eyes out of the way. He is breathtakingly beautiful under the moonlight. I wish I could paint or sketch, immortalize every glorious sharp edge of him in ink and paper. “I’m with you, how can I not be safe?”

Cauldron boil me, I mean that too.

It’s not until later that night, long after I’d fallen apart on his tongue in that field and then tumbled back into camp, nearly asleep on my feet to nestle down against his warm body that I remembered I’d meant to ask him this morning why he’d still let me in after everything between us. By now I’m too exhausted to care; maybe I’ll find the courage to ask in the morning.

-------------

Taglist:

@judig92 / @randomperson1234sblog /@nyxbranwenn /@lilah-asteria / @barb00235

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@landofpetrichor / @hjgdhghoe / @buttermilktea11 / @yourforeveryoungblog / @sassyn

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@zoeisdreaming6 / @minnieoo / @girl-math-aint-mathing / @raisam / @inloveallthetime

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@blessthepizzaman / @bxtchopolis / @erencvlt / @mylittle-flower-loves

Thank you all for being so patient with this update! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the taglist :)

[xoluvx]

hi babies,

i love interacting with ya’ll and i love that some of you just love being here with me and that this has become part of your daily routine 💖

recently, with all of “good” .. there’s starting to now be lots of “bad”. my inbox has always only had positive things, but people are starting to feel comfortable with being rude and demanding (and not in a cute playful way). some of you are getting upset because i don’t answer your asks. some of you are telling me to get offline and “touch a woman” which is hilarious imo because you literally don’t know my life dude. i dont owe anyone an explanation. i just love being a safe space for people and that’s what this blog has been.

i’ve always wanted this space to be a safe space for everyone.. including myself.. especially myself because it’s my blog.. but it’s starting to not feel that way and so things need to change.

i apologize if i haven’t given you attention or have made you feel unwanted in any way. i wish you understood that i have to pick and choose what to reply to because people are now literally just sending random stuff that i don’t know how to answer??

i do not tolerate hate or negativity towards anyone!! ever ever and that includes myself AGAIN. i know my self worth and my limits.

i’m thinking i’ll just go back to limiting my answers to asks and mainly posting my writing since that’s the whole reason everyone is here (including myself).

i love my babies so much. thank you for being here 💖

okay rant over.

[razorblade180]

Sharing Braincells

Aether:*looking at map*!?

Mualani:*hugs him from behind* Where are we going today?

Aether:I was thinking about exploring some underground caves.

Mualani:I see~ maybe we can grab Kachina if she isn’t busy.

Aether:Mmhmm.

Mualani:Say, you’re looking a little red. Too much sun?

Aether:I wasn’t expecting you to appear like you did.

Mualani:Oh. Is this close? We’ve practically been closer in the hot springs.

Aether: I don’t…hate it.

Kinich:Mualani, let the man look at his map. You’re stressing him out.

Mualani:He just said it was fine. Much like myself, physical touch is calming. Is someone jealous?

Kinich:What do I have to be jealous of? We’re going bungee jumping later.

Aether:…Am I popular?

Paimon:You’ve been popular.

Aether:This feels more like “cool kid at school” popular. Instead of “national hero.” It’s kinda neat. I’m just trying to raise a baby saurian.

Sandshrew: *eating grapes*

Aether:I’m going to cry so hard when it’s time to leave Natlan.

Paimon:You’re going to cry when you walk into the abyss domain. There’s like ten of these in there.

KAM: The babies!?

[sh4wty18]

girl of your dreams - chapter three.

one. | two. | three.

pairing: hockeyplayer!chris x figureskater!reader

summary: you have trouble picking an outfit for chris's party, but your best friend helps you. then, something unexpected happens that leaves you feeling more confused than ever.

cw: rivals to lovers, angst, first person POV, language, alcohol consumption + being drunk

word count: 1.7k + edited

tags: @joeshiestyslover @chrissbluehat @h3arts4harry @wompwomp-1 @cassluvsturn @cl1tlover3000 (if you want to be tagged, comment!)

dividers from @plutism

---

Y/n's POV

I stood in front of the full body mirror leaning against my bedroom wall. My best friend and roommate Gracie laid on my bed across the room, scrolling on her phone as I panic trying on every possible outfit combination I can think of. 

“Ugh!” I grumble, “Nothing’s working. I look like shit!”

Gracie looks up and gives me a goofy smile, “Aww, my darling best friend struggling to pick an outfit for a party was not on my senior year bingo card.” She walks up behind me and wraps her arms around my shoulders, squeezing me tight. “I am so proud of you!” 

I hold her arms and continue pouting into the mirror. “Yeah, well, everyone thinks I’m some uptight loser. I’m sick of it.”

“You’re not an uptight loser. Who told you that? I swear to God I will beat a bitch up!” Gracie shouts, letting go of me and pretending to punch the air next to us. 

I laugh, looking down at my feet. “No one told me that…”

“I can hear the hesitation in your voice. Spill.”

I feel my face burning up, “Well, Chris kind of implied that I don’t like to have fun.”

“Chris Sturniolo?! The president of ADPhi? The dude you’ve been in a random rivalry with since freshman year?”

“The one and only.” I laugh as images of Chris playing hockey this week flash through my mind. He looked so good. I don’t know how I managed to land any jumps this week when everyday I was mesmerized by him. The way he glided across the ice, weaving the puck in between his teammates and coming to a brisk halt before swinging precisely. He’d hit the puck every time, and almost always score. My breath would catch every time too, and I hated myself for it. We aren’t even friend-ly let alone friends! Besides, he’s still insufferable. I still want to roll my eyes every time he talks to me. He’s still arrogant and smug, and sure, his cockiness can be hot sometimes, but the majority of the time it’s just plain annoying. He’s annoying. Everything about him irks me, and yet. And yet…

“Girl? Hello?” Gracie waves her hand in front of my face and pulls me back from my haze. 

“Sorry. I was thinking,” I mumble.

“Yeah, thinking about boning Chris,” she cackles at her own joke, and I playfully swat at her arm.

“Shut up!” 

“Y/n, I’ve seen the way you two argue. There’s no way he’s not into you. It’s kind of hot, when you think about it. The sexual tension, the rivalry. It’s like a fanfiction. Enemies to lovers,” she draws out the ‘r’ in the word ‘lovers’ and waves her hands at me. 

I shake my head with a laugh, even though I can feel my face flushing again. But she’s wrong. There’s no way he thinks of me that way. He’s the president of his frat and the captain of a D1 hockey team. Everyone loves him. “No, Gracie. He just knows how to annoy me because we’ve had nearly every class together for our majors and are co-presidents of Model UN.”

“Exactly! He lowkey knows you better than everyone. Except me of course! But still, that does not give him the right to say you don’t like fun. You’re just focused. I admire you, and he should too. Asshole.” 

I laugh and slap her arm again, “Gracie! …You’re not wrong.” 

She snoops in my closet and pulls out a red lacy top, one I bought on a whim this summer. I don’t know why I even bought it. Three full years of university, and I’ve never once been to a party. I guess I was holding out hope for senior year, that maybe this year I’d have the balls to do something like this. Well, I guess my intuition was correct. She hands me the top, “Wear this,” she says. “It’ll look hot, especially with your black jeans.” 

I take off the pink cami I have on and slip the red one over my head, adjusting my boobs as I do. She wasn’t wrong, it does look hot. My jeans are low rise, they sit just below my belly button. The top is tight, and hugs my waist perfectly. I’m not going to lie, I’ve never felt more confident.

“Shit.” Gracie says, staring me up and down. “If I was Chris, I’d do you.”

I smile, “This isn’t about him.”

“Girl, you and I both know it is. You can pretend it’s just a rivalry all you want, but I’ve seen the way you look at him. You want him.”

“Shut up.” I giggle, and it’s because I know she’s right.

– 

Gracie and I walk up to the ADPhi house around midnight, since Gracie said it’s always better to show up to parties late. I also took a couple shots of cheap vodka with Gracie before we left our apartment, and I could already feel the alcohol hitting. Since I’d only drank a couple times since sophomore year of college, my tolerance is low, so the shots I’d had before we left were already making me feel light and bubbly.

We walked up the front steps to where a couple guys in the frat sat, and they stopped us. 

“Who are you with?” one man asked with a serious look on his face. 

I couldn’t help but giggle, he was acting like a bouncer at a club. “Um, I’m the captain of the women’s figure skating team. Chris invited us?”

He raises his eyebrow at me, like he doesn’t believe me. “Hang on.” He walks inside the house and I turn to Gracie. We stifle our laughs until the guy comes back out with Chris.

He looks so fucking hot. Sorry. He looks good. His hair is messy and his blue eyes are slightly glazed over, so I know he’s drunk too. His stubble frames his face and draws attention to his angular jawline. Fuck, I want to kiss him. 

“Woah, shit. Y/n. I didn’t expect you to actually show up. You look…” He trails off, his eyes tracking up and down my body. “Yeah, come on in, guys.” He smiles and slings an arm lazily over my shoulders. I stiffen, and he lets go. “Sorry,” he says.

“No, it’s okay. I just wasn’t…” He gets called into a crowd of friends, cheering him on to do a keg stand. He saunters to the middle of the room, so confident and cocky, and I know I’m in for it. I want him. Fuck, I really want him. 

Gracie leads me to the dance floor and the music is blaring. We start dancing together and to my surprise, I actually like the feeling. Being tipsy with my best friend and just getting to relax on a Friday night, not worrying about med-school stuff or studying or debate prompts for Model UN… it felt good. 

After a few songs I look around for Chris, but I can’t find him. I wanted to prove to him that I was having fun, just like he’d said this afternoon at practice. God, he could read me. Gracie grabs my hand and pulls me toward the kitchen, where alcohol bottles litter the linoleum countertops. 

“Have another shot with me?” she asks, and I nod. Being here makes me think maybe I was missing out on something all along. Maybe I’ve wasted three years of my life not experiencing my youth, just to keep my grades up. Chris had fun, and his grades were still steller. So why hadn’t I? Maybe he was right. Maybe I didn’t like having fun. 

Gracie pours two shots of vodka and hands me one. We click the glasses together before knocking them back, and I wince at the burning sensation in my throat. 

As we walk back into the living room, where people are still dancing and doing keg stands I ask Gracie, “You’ve been here before, right? I gotta pee, but I don’t know where the bathroom is.” 

“Yeah, just up the stairs and to the right. You can’t miss it,” she replies. 

I make my way upstairs and stop outside the first door on the right. I knock a few times, and when no one answers, I walk in. 

It isn’t a bathroom, though. It’s a bedroom, and on the bed in front of me, lies a very drunk Chris in bed scrolling on his phone. 

“Oh, sorry, I thought this was the bathroom,” I say.

He looks up and smirks, before standing and making his way over to me. “You just can’t stay away from me, can you Y/n?” 

I swallow and back up, but he keeps inching closer to me. My back hits the door, which closes behind me. Chris places a hand on the door next to my head and leans in. His face is so close, I can feel the breath passing between us. It's sweet and alcoholic. I kind of like it. 

“Hmm?” he hums when I don’t respond, like he’s waiting for a reply. 

“I honestly thought this was the bathroom, Chris.” I roll my eyes and scowl at him, even though I want nothing more than to close the gap between us, and shut him up with my mouth. 

He reaches out with his free hand and tilts my chin up to face him. “You are such a bitch,” he says with his classic cocky smile. 

I return his smug look, the alcohol making me even more prone to attitude than when I am sober, which is saying a lot. “And you’re an asshole. I guess we have more in common than we thought.”

“Shut up,” he says, his thumb and forefinger still holding my chin, and I catch him stealing glances at my lips.

I smile, “Make me.” I reach out and grab the collar of his t-shirt, pulling his face impossibly closer to mine, until our parted lips brush together. I don’t know why I do it. The vodka might be playing a role. 

“Fuck,” he whispers. He looks down at my lips one more time before letting go of my chin. “I gotta go,” he moves past me, opening his bedroom door to leave. “Bathroom’s the next door to your right. Pay more attention, Y/n/LN, I coulda’ been rubbing one out.” He winks and offers me one last grin–a real one this time–before walking past me, leaving me standing alone in his doorway as he makes his way back downstairs. 

All I can think as I walk into the bathroom is: what the fuck just happened?

---

i love this fic so much. i have ideas!!! lmk what you think :)

[lynzishell]

The Past 🩵 Asher

I rush into my apartment, slamming the door behind me, and take a sharp left to get into my room before Lex can catch me. Once inside, I lock the door and remove my smelly clothes from last night as quickly as I can. I’m tempted to shower again after having to walk home in them, but I don’t have time. As it is, Iris is going to be calling in an hour to ask why I haven’t arrived yet, and I really don’t have it in me today to deal with her moods, which are even worse now that she’s very pregnant. Spencer is due to arrive in a couple weeks, and my sister ran out of patience a couple weeks ago.

“Ash?” Lex pounds on the door as I’m pulling clothes from my dresser.

“Give me two minutes, I’m just changing.” I really don’t have time to chat with her, I have to leave, but I also kinda need my best friend.

Once I’m fully clothed, I walk into the living room to find Lex standing there, waiting for me. She takes one look at my face and holds out her arms with a concerned pout, “Baaabe.” Years ago, I told her that I hate it when guys call me “babe”, that it was a total turn off. Her solution was to call me “babe” herself, that way no one else would be allowed to call me that ‘cause it’s hers; and it wouldn’t feel so icky because she’d be saying it ironically. But then it stuck and now it really is hers and there’s nothing ironic about it.

I fall into her arms and let her embrace me as only she can. Lex gives the best hugs. Sometimes she squeezes the life out of you, but on days like today, it feels like she’s holding all the broken bits of me together. If she hugs me long enough then it will heal me, but if she lets go too soon, I’ll fall to pieces, so I squeeze her back just as tight and bury my face in her shoulder.

“What happened?”

“I made a fool of myself, Lex.” As I say the words out loud, I feel a lump form in my throat and I’m grateful that my voice is muffled by the sleeve of her jacket so as not to give me away.

“What do you mean?”

“I just… I thought... I don’t know what I thought,” and then the dam breaks. My tears burst forth so quickly that I have no chance of stopping them, so I just let it happen. The sobs rack my body, making my chest hurt. I cling to her like she’s a lifebuoy in the middle of the ocean during a storm. And she stands there, solid and safe, holding me until the storm passes and I start breathing normally again. It’s over just as quickly as it started.

“I’m gonna kill him, y’know,” she says finally.

I sniffle and let out a pitiful laugh, “Please don’t.”

“Seriously? You come home in this state, and you expect me to let him live?”

I walk into the kitchen to splash my face with cold water and clean myself up. “Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean he deserves your wrath. Besides, I think I’m just extra sensitive coming down from whatever the hell you gave us last night.”

“So, this is my fault?”

“No. I’m just saying my breakdown is at least partially chemical. And maybe that explains Atlas’ mood today actually. Oh, I might’ve completely misread everything. Fuck.” I groan as I clench my stomach and lean against the counter, suddenly feeling sick with regret and embarrassment.

“Okay, hold on, what exactly happened?”

“I don’t have time to get into it. I have to run out to my parents’ house and help Iris with fucking baby furniture or something.”

“Well, let’s go then. I’ll come with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything else to do today, and we’re not done talking. And I like your mom’s cooking.”

I throw my arm around her shoulders and kiss her cheek dramatically, “Thank you.” I’m grateful to have her to talk to during the two-hour drive. I would no doubt be stewing and obsessing the whole time if not. My family will be happy to see her as well. They’re always asking why she doesn’t come visit more. Of course, I know it’s because she feels like she has to go see her own family if she’s in town, and that’s the last thing she wants to do.

“Alright, calm down. Let’s go.”

Prev // Next

[janeeyrewasfaecoded]

It is crazy that sm of post 1966 Beatles is Paul being like guys, let’s get so weird with it. How about a movie where there is no plot. It’ll just be weird as fuck. And really gay. There are wizards and animals. Or hmm what about an album with um like a theme. Maybe we won’t even be us anymore? Or we do one like an opera. (Can rock albums have reprises?) I’m writing a song about a serial killer. It will take days to perfect and you’re all invited. by force

George is meanwhile like idk I wrote some stuff about my life and experiences… is that crazy or can it also exist beside the ragtime and Western gunslinger ballads and free-verse beat triptychs

Ringo is like fuck it I quit the band all this artsy gay shit is sickening……nah I’m just kiddin, hehe. I’m into it :) but I will be drinking

And John is like you guys I have written several songs about hating myself and my life. No I will not challenge Paul on the weird shit because 1) well just look at him and 2) I have actually always wanted to be really weird in front of people. In fact I’m having a listening party for some porn I recorded and you are all invited. by force

[firstprincehornyramblings]

Hello everyone! I'm getting a start early, by queueing this post for tomorrow morning, look at me go. Thank you who much to @tailsbeth-writes for the tag <3 I have ... 3 wips again, because I have no self control, so we're doing all of this under the cut, because it's gonna be long, and maybe a lil nsfw <3 LET'S GOOOOOOOO.

------ George Villier's inner dialogue during an Orgy (that's the working title on this, please bare with)

It wasn’t that George had always been this way, but an ascension into power had nurtured his hedonism prone nature. If he was to be blessed with the gift of beauty, he would take all the power and pleasure that came with it. He’d earned it after all, his bed of lovers, his social standing, influence, and wealth. Each a result of unsavory acts; but that made them so much more deserved, did it not? He could have anything he wanted, like a god among men, and so he should be worshipped the same. Though he was more than content with devotion in the form of flesh; he’d certainly used his own body as currency often enough. Even now, anything that wasn’t handed to him willingly, with a brush of lips, or a clandestine slip to knees, could become his. That in itself was testament to all he’d done, that his willing submission was as effective a bargaining tool as his power.

WATERSPORTS FIRSTPRINCE (aka, Alex is funny and Henry has a weak bladder)

“You… think it’s- what?” Henry choked out, “You think it’s hot that I pissed myself in the middle of our kitchen? Is that your idea of a joke?” “I-” the brunette could feel his own cheeks heating up now, “It’s not a joke, I do, I’m sorry, but I do,” he managed after a moment. “Oh,” the blond’s eyes shot straight down to the shorts Alex had on, falling on the visible hardness there, “Oh,” he repeated, but with much more understanding this time. There were still tears sparkling in the corners of his eyes, threatening to fall, but he was visibly less mortified, “Alex, that is so disgusting...” “I know, shit baby, I’m s-” “I can get into it.” “What?” “I said, I can get into it,” Henry repeated, “Well, honestly, I could probably get into anything that makes your cock hard, because- well frankly I reap the benefits of that. Would you like to fuck my throat?”

AND A NEW WIP, Hairstylist Henry and his least (read as favorite) Client Alex

“Alright, tilt your head back,” both of Henry’s hands rested on Alex’s temples, carefully moving the other man’s head into the perfect place, “Do you want me to stop under the jawline?” “Whatever you think looks best, sweetheart.” Normally, Henry would hate that, some businessman using a pet name on him. But usually it felt demeaning, when Alex did it, it felt genuine, perhaps that was why he didn't mind it. He would rather accept that than admit it might have something to do with how hot his cheeks felt or how his stomach flip flopped. Instead, he chose to focus on something else, like the familiar but luxurious scent becoming more evident the closer he was to Alex. “Santal 33?” the blond asked, running the trimmers over the other man’s jawline, making careful precise lines that would accentuate the sharp angles there. “Yeah,” impressively, Alex had answered that without much movement of his face; Henry was astonished. “Makes sense.” “What is that supposed to mean?” this time, the brunette moved, but he did have the mind to wait until Henry was running the trimers along his throat with less chance of Alex’s jolt messing up something. “It means you look like someone who has good taste, don’t move.” “You’re worse than a dentist,” Alex grumbled. “Stop moving, christ you’re an absolute menace, I’m going to slice your throat open.” “With an electric trimmer?” “I’m certain if I make enough effort, I just may be able to pull it off,” Henry snapped.

OKAY, that was a long one, if you stuck around thank u I love u. TAG LINE UP!!!!

@taste-thewaste @eusuntgratie @henrysfox @thighzp

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics @henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones @henfox @onthewaytosomewhere + literally anyone else I'm sleepy and forgot, or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[junglejim4322]

Man I’m so tired of the way I feel and operate and as insane as it sounds I find it almost more frustrating that despite the hardships, I have so much more in my life than maybe I ever have and I’m still not happy. Made way more sense when I had nothing but I really don’t anymore. Persistent pervasive depression or whatever getting added to my laundry list along with finding out what anhedonia is really does feel like a large explanation but I have no idea what to do WITH knowing that. I don’t even remember the last time I felt really truly excited about something. Which is insane like I have repaired my life from rock bottom and made genuine friends I love who love me and gotten myself out of a lot of the terror I was trapped in for years and made my first actual attempts at tackling childhood trauma and yet I’m still not happy.

And it’s not even like I’m miserable all the time I’d say my default state is low, my worst state is lower, and my best state is neutral. What used to be excitement is now usually anxiety and dread, and I seem to be less and less capable of looking forward to anything. It’s so bizarre I don’t know how to reconcile it because it also sounds like I’m walking around hating life but I’m really not I’m just almost never happy. And there are certain emotions that I feel I have a combination of a mental block with or just prevent myself from feeling like the fear I feel related to situations and people that could lead me to deeper emotions or commitments makes me go right to or flight 85% of the time but at the end of the day I really would like to want something and the lack of want feels like a huge reason I don’t take my life a step further or make moves to change things and progress. Idfk

[pinkponyclubbb3]

my kink is karma

summary: y/n just moved in next door, and she’s having trouble sleeping because her neighbors keep yelling till late at night. (they’re Twitch streaming) y/n gets back at them to show them how annoying it is.

warnings: cursing, smoking, female masturbation, use of sex toys. female oral receiving

“You fucking idiot!” I sit up from my bed with my hand over my heart. “What the fuck?” I accidentally wake up my dog. I look for my phone on my nightstand but knock everything down until I reach it. 2:47am. I sigh out loud, the noise hasn’t stopped. “Fuck this.” I get up and put on my shoes.

I step outside and the wind blows in my direction. Goosebumps immediately cover my arms. I should’ve brought a jacket. I quickly walk next door and when I get to their front door I don’t hesitate to knock. I hug myself in attempt to warm up. Finally I hear footsteps and the locks unlock. I yawn and the man opens the door. “Yes?” the man looks annoyed. When my vision clears up I start regretting my outfit choice.

He has dark hair and blue eyes, wearing a white wife-beater shirt and plaid pajama pants. He looks me up and down. I’m wearing Spongebob boxers and a black tank top. “Not sure if you own a clock, but it’s 2 in the morning, and you’re yelling.” He cocks his head to the side. “And I’m not sure if you know, but this is my house.” He fakes, smiles, crosses his arms, and leans on the door frame.

“You know some of us have a real job and can’t stay up all night playing video games.” I hate how attractive he is. “I get paid while I play video games. Sorry, your job isn’t as interesting.” I scoff annoyed at the conversation. “Okay this isn’t getting us anywhere. Can you and whoever lives here stop being so fucking loud? Thanks.” I fake a smile and pat his shoulder. I turn on my heel and walk away before he gets the chance to say anything

I yawn as I go to turn the knob and realize… it’s locked. No fucking way. I kick my door out of frustration. “Fuck!” I stare at the sky, contemplating what to do. I decide to walk to the side of my house to see if I can get my window open. The noise gets louder, and I pray the guy doesn’t notice me. I peak my head to their window to get a better view and I see two other guys that look like the guy who opened the door. “Triplets. Fuck they’re multiplying.” I roll my eyes and sigh. I turn to my window and try to lift it up.

“Shit!” I yell when I realize my acrylics won’t let me open it. I debate, knocking on their window. Fuck it, they woke me up. I turn to face their house and knock loudly on their window. I scare the three of them. Two of them looked at each other, scared of a stranger at their window at 3:00 am. The guy I talked to earlier threw his head back and went to open the window. “Matt, don’t open the fucking window!” I roll my eyes impatiently, waiting. “Stalking us now?”

I give him a mocking smile. “Funny. Anyways, can you open my window? I got locked out. and I can’t slide it open with these nails.” I flip him off with both hands to show him. “Is this who was knocking earlier?” I take a deep breath clearly frustrated and nod.

“No. Chris shut the window.” I look at him in disbelief. “I wouldn’t have had to ask you if you just shut the fuck up!” Matt reaches over to shut the window. I just stare at the three of them blankly. When I realize no one is going to help me, I feel a lump in my throat start forming. “You’re all cunts!” I walk away before they see the tears forming in my eyes. “Look who’s yelling now.” It takes all my strength to stop myself from turning around and smashing their window with a rock.

I walk to my car, and thankfully, I have my spare hidden in a plant. I need to keep a house key hidden, I give myself a mental note. I open the car and get in the front seat. I don’t have my phone, so I look for something to entertain me. I look in my center console and see some half-eaten chips, and as I dig further, I see my pen. “Fuck yeah!” I say to myself. I take a hit, and let it sit in my throat. I put the key into the ignition so I could use the radio. I adjust the volume so it’s not too loud but just enough to fill the silence.

I open my sunroof and lay my seat back. I start eating my stale chips when the drug starts hitting me. I feel so relaxed my mind is not overwhelmed with thoughts about the fucking Alvin and the chipmunks living next door. I close my eyes and let myself listen to the music. I start humming along and moving my head to the beat. I take another hit and blow it out towards the sunroof. “How many hits do you need? Jesus.”

I jump out of my seat and drop my pen between my seat. “Motherfucker! What is your problem?” I let out a breath. I didn’t know I was holding. I lower my window so I can hear him. “I wasn’t gonna let you sleep outside.” I lay back in my chair and stare at him. “You’re annoying.” I see him reach inside and unlock the passenger seat door. I would protest since I just met him, and its also 3:00 am, but he’s so hot, and I can’t lie and say I’m not horny right now. Drugs are bad for me I get really turned on. Now I remember why I kept this in the car and not my room. I turn to the boy whose name I now know is Matt.

“Can I take a hit?” I go to hand it to him but realize I dropped it when he scared me. “Where your phone? I need the flash.” He hands me his phone and watches me closely and I exit the car and bend towards the center console to try to reach for it. I bend down more and hear Matt laugh. “What?” I ask him with annoyance on my face. “You’re flashing me.” He says bluntly. I look down and see my tank top is hanging low. Motherfucker.

“Like what you see?” I look at him. He bites his lip and nods. I pick up the pen and hand it to him. He takes a long drag while I settle back in my seat. “You know those SpongeBob boxers are really doing something to me.” I hit his shoulder. “Shut up.” I laugh. “Can you open my window,please?” I look at him with my tired eyes. “Only cause you asked so nicely.”

“How can I ever repay you?” I say sarcastically while we slam my car doors. We walk towards my window and I get an idea. “I can think of a few ways.” He says. I turn to him and he’s towering over me. “Yeah? And what’s that?” He tilts my chin up with one hand and grabs my waist with the other. “Let me show you.” His lips crash into mine, I wrap my arms around his neck. “What’s your name?”

“y/n” I press my lips on his again. I feel his hand play with the waistband of the boxers. I shut my eyes tightly trying not to cringe at my outfit. His fingers reach my heat and he slides a finger feeling how wet I am. “Please touch me.” I feel his hand grip my thigh from the inside of my underwear. When he takes his hand out he places it right on my heat over my clothes. I start grinding my hips on his palm trying to get any sort of release. “So fucking needy.” My eyes roll back in pleasure when he presses on my clit with his thumb. He starts using it to circle my clit “O-oh fuck,Matt”

He stops his movements and gets on his knees. He looks up at me. “Can I take these off?” I desperately nod yes. “Excuse me, Patrick.” I hit his head playfully. “Shut the fuck up.” he laughs and pulls down the boxers. He wastes no time placing his mouth on me. I throw my head back and moan his name. “F-fuck Matt just like that.” I grab his hair burying his face in me. Pornographic moans are leaving my mouth. “Fuck you taste so good.” He starts finger fucking me, and my legs start shaking. He uses his middle and ring finger to fuck me while his tongue is circling and sucking on my clit.

“I can feel you clenching around me. Are you close, sweetheart?” I nod my head, whimpering a yes. “Such a fucking slut. Letting me eat you in front of my brother's window.” My eyes widen. “I thought that was yours-fuck!” He sucks on my clit making me closer to my orgasm.

“Wanna cum?” I nod my head repeatedly. “So bad.” I feel the knot in my stomach. “Cum for me, baby.” I release all over his tongue. I subconsciously grind my hips on his mouth, riding out my orgasm. “Fuck Matt!” He pulls my boxers back up and wipes his mouth. “Wanna finish this inside.” He moves me out the way to slide open my window. He helps me climb inside and once i’m in my room I shut the window. “What the fuck?”

“Goodnight Matt.” I smile and wave at him. I lay on my bed and drift off to sleep.

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

I’m finally back from work. I sigh out of frustration; it was just a bad day. Not to mention, I barely slept last night. I open my fridge to pour myself a drink. I look down and see my dog waiting for me to give him food. “This is my food. Your food is over there, babe.” I point straight ahead to show him his food bowl. I give in and get him a piece of chicken that I never finished. “Sit.” He stares at the chicken. “Roll over. Do something.” I give up and feed him the piece of chicken. “I can’t blame you. It’s not like I speak dog. How do I expect you to know what I’m saying.” I bend down to pet him, but he barks at me. “Hey! Don’t bark at me. Fat ass, I was trying to pet you, not steal your food.” I leave him be and head to my room.

I strip and change to an oversized shirt. I throw my clothes into my laundry bin and lie down. I turned on my TV to play some music to get my mind off how bad of a day I was having. I put it at a low volume to not intensify my headache. I close my eyes and memories of last night flood my mind. My hand starts roaming my body. I touch my inner thighs feeling wetness pool between my legs. Not giving myself the attention I need so I don’t make this feeling go away so quickly.

‘Such a fucking slut’ the moment replays in my head. I open my eyes and look through my drawer pulling out my pink vibrator. I turn it on to the second setting to start off. I tease myself by putting it everywhere but the place where I need the most attention. I feel my nipples harden at the contact. A moan slips from my mouth. I move my panties to the side to feel how wet i’m getting.

I start moving my vibrator close to my clit to release some tension, but before I can, the yelling and screaming start again. No fucking way. I should be the one screaming. I turn off my vibrator and go up to my window. I see the boys around two computers with controllers in their hands. One of the boys starts dancing around and pulls out a harmonica. The fuck? Where did he get a harmonica from? I grab my pillow and scream into it.

When I look closer, I see that their window is cracked open. It must’ve been when Matt shut it last night. An idea pops into my mind. I used the palms of my hands to slide open my window when it hit me. Why didn’t I use my palms to slide the window open yesterday? I go to my closet and pull out a medium sized speaker and a microphone. I turn on the speaker and connect the microphone. When I catch them not paying attention I leave my window and put the speaker right next to theirs. I go through my front door and run to my room so they won’t catch me.

I wait for the perfect opportunity to start being obnoxious. “Oh fuck! Yes that feels so good!” I start fake moaning into the mic. I kneel down so they won’t see me but I have a view of them. The three of them cough loudly trying to cover it up. I found out they were live streaming. So they can’t just cut this out of a video. “Deeper! I need your cock buried deep inside me!” I obnoxiously moan. I turn off the microphone to laugh. I cover my mouth so they won’t hear me.

I see the one that was playing the harmonica reach towards the mic. Before he can mute it I start again. “Harder! Fuck just like that!” I make pornographic nosies. I accidentally laugh into the mic. “Fuck!” I whisper yell to myself. “Nick close the window!” I hear Matt say. “I’ll be back.”

“Fuck. fuck. fuck.” I take off my shirt, leaving me in just my lace bra and panties. I throw on a satin robe and mess my hair up to make it look like I was having sex. I hear a loud knock on the door. I smear my lipstick before I open the door. “What?” I ask, fake annoyed. “Can you be fucking quiet? We’re doing a stream. Twelve thousand people just heard you going at it.” I bite back my smile. “Was my screaming obnoxious? Was I being too loud? I’m not sure if you know, but this is my house.” I see the look of annoyance in his eyes when he realizes i’m using his own words against him.

“You’re gonna get our stream taken down. Can you just stop being so loud?” I can see him getting angry. “Good maybe you’ll stop screaming until 4 in the morning.” I hear a loud crash from my bedroom. I run to my room and see my speaker is in a million pieces. “What the fuck!” Chris is climbing back into his room. Nick starts playing his harmonica again.

“I’m gonna shove that harmonica down your throat.” He peeks his head out the window. “What are you mad cause we interrupted you getting something down your throat?” I flip him off and close my window. I turn around and Matt is standing in front of me. “Were you just faking all that?”

“yes I was trying to masturbate but you guys wanted to have a fucking screaming contest!” I fall back into my bed. “Let me help you get your frustration out.” He steps closer. “You have twelve thousand people waiting for you on a stream.” he shrugs his shoulders. “Let me show you how sorry I am for interrupting.” He says as he looks at my almost naked body.

I slowly nod. He kneels down and throws my legs over his shoulder “I’m.so.so.so.sorry.” he says while he kisses my inner thighs. I move my hips around impatiently. He grabs my hips holding me still. He moves my underwear to the side and licks my folds. “Fuck” I whisper while I throw my head back. “Mmm so fucking sweet.” he flicks his tongue up and down my clit. My breath hitches when I feel him suck. His hand starts roaming up my body until he’s groping my left tit. His thumb grazes over my nipple.

He squeezes my boob tight as if he’s using it as a handle. He takes his hand away and pushes his fingers against my mouth. “Open.” he demands. I open my mouth and he shoves his middle and ring finger down my throat. When he hears me gag he takes them out just to shove them back in. When he feels his fingers wet he brings them down to my cunt. “Look at me.” I sit my self up with my elbows and look at him. The second I make eye contact he inserts his fingers inside me. “Fuck!” I throw my head back. “Look at me,y/n.” I try my hardest to keep eye contact. He places his mouth back on my clit.

I can feel his facial rub against me. “I’m close, Matt.” He smiles against me while he starts sucking harder. I feel him bite down, but not enough to hurt me. “Matt, I’m gonna-”

“I know baby, cum for me let me taste all of you.” I release all over his mouth. I grip the sheets so hard my knuckles are turning white.”Jesus fucking christ-” He helps me ride out my orgasm. When he gets up he takes his fingers and shoves them into my mouth again. “Taste how sweet you are.” I circle my tongue on his fingers tasting myself on him.

I hear something being thrown at my window. “Matthew!” He takes his fingers out and turns to my window. His brothers are signaling him to come to their room. “Gotta go. Hope that satisfied you enough to stop moaning so loud that my fans can hear.”

❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀ ❀

A/n: Thank you so so much for reading !

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[mywitchyblog]

Can someone please explain to me who the hell is so upset with me that they’ve resorted to going into other shifters' ask boxes as an anonymous user and started bullying them in my name? It honestly baffles me that someone would stoop so low. If you have an issue with me or something I’ve said, be direct. I’m not one to hide behind anonymity or drag innocent people into something they have nothing to do with. If I had a problem with you, trust me, I’d say it to your face. I don’t need to hide in the shadows.

Now, there are only two possibilities for what’s going on here, and neither of them reflect well on the person responsible:

The first possibility is that this person is intentionally creating drama by sending themselves an anonymous ask. Maybe they’re looking for attention or trying to stir up conflict where there is none. It's sad, honestly, if that’s what’s happening because it just shows how far some people are willing to go to manufacture chaos.

The second possibility is that I’ve managed to piss someone off to the point where they’re now impersonating me, using my name to spread hate and start fights in spaces where I’m not even involved. If this is the case, I can’t say I’m surprised that someone would go this route rather than confront me directly, but it’s still frustrating. I don’t hide from criticism, and I won’t shy away from addressing issues head-on. But to use my identity in such a toxic way? That’s crossing a line.

To the person this happened to (I found out about this through a mutual, and I want you to know that I’m aware), I am truly sorry. I hate that this situation has dragged you into something you didn’t ask for, and I genuinely wish it hadn’t happened. But let me be absolutely clear: it wasn’t me. I did not send those messages, and I would never engage in that kind of behavior. It’s not how I handle things, and it’s certainly not how I treat others.

You are fully entitled to your own opinion, just like I’m entitled to mine. I’ve never denied that right to anyone, and I wouldn’t start now. We don’t have to agree on everything, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to attack you for your perspective or allow someone else to use my name to do so. That’s not how this works.

And just to set the record straight for the final time: I am not a pedophile, nor do I endorse, encourage, or support anything related to that disgusting behavior. It’s beyond insulting that I even have to keep repeating this, but here we are. In fact, I went out of my way to age myself up by a few years or to completely discard the DRs that felt problematic or uncomfortable. I’ve always been mindful of the spaces I navigate, especially when it comes to shifting, and I’ve made conscious decisions about what I’m comfortable with.

If you’re unhappy or confused about something I’ve said or done, talk to me like a human being. Bring it to me, and let’s figure it out. Don’t jump to conclusions or, worse, involve other people who aren’t even a part of the conversation. It’s cowardly and completely unnecessary. This whole thing could’ve been avoided with a little bit of maturity and honest communication.

At the end of the day, it’s honestly pathetic to bully other people just because they happen to have a different opinion than yours. Why are you so bothered by someone else’s perspective that you’d go out of your way to hurt them or cause unnecessary drama? We’re all individuals here, and our experiences with shifting, our journeys, and our beliefs are going to vary. No two people will see everything the same way, and that’s okay. It’s actually something to be embraced. What’s not okay is tearing each other down because of those differences. That only reflects poorly on you and shows how little respect you have for other people’s paths.

So, let’s try a little harder to be civil and respectful. You don’t have to agree with me, and I don’t have to agree with you, but at the very least, we can treat each other with decency.