#I'm in love. I'm in love with you. I love you more than I've ever loved anything

[sirithesillies]

hello people i was given cocon and im so bored so take way too much info about me (more than you will ever need):

obligatory this is a hella long post below :) :

i have multiple names, and therefore multiple middle names !!! notable ones are Luci (Lucifer or Lucious, whichever idc) && Nex :)

rn? 15 bodily

July 31st :D :D

^ that makes meeee a leo >:)

i like reds, greens, n purples

2 or 7 :D

YEAH !!! i have a bearded dragon named buddy, and i also share three dogs (sasha, sheeba, and albus.)

i was born in indiana? i think? but we moved so often iderk. lived in britain for a while but don't think i was born there?

a measly 5'3 :(

uhm.. american women's 8 1/2? i think?

13, 14 if you count roller blades and 1 maybe 2 if you count the ones i actually wear

uhm i was. sleeping.. in my dream.. it was a dream about me trying to fall asleep and it was really comforting though so win-win

i was told i took to crochet really quickly? i work for all of the skills i have, much to my dismay.

i have amazing vibe detectors to the point people use me as a problematic-partner-bloodhound. this works for all people MINUS the ones that are around me✌️

my music taste is super finicky !!! i've posted about it before but lowk i dont rlly have a favorite

v for vendetta at the moment...

i have a variety of mental illnesses so someone who can match my freak frsies.. i need a lot of attention and give it in return so i just need someone whos chill parallel playing like 20/6 or wtv..

i like the idea of kids and i'm good with them in short bursts of time, but i would be a HORRIBLE parent, so probably not unless i fix that :)

im not sure lowkey, haven't thought much about it. i would rather it just be personal honestly

im a polytheistic kemetic and hellenistic pagan, which means i work with both egyptian and greek deities :) i worship Sekhmet, Ra, Bastet, Apollo, Hera, and Poseidon :) I... do a lot honestly :sob:

doctors fear me, nurses love me, and i know medical staff by name. surprisingly that's gone down a lot this last year or two but i also have chronic breathing issues so i go to the hospital fairly often

yeah :sob:

not that i remember at least

baths for special occasions ONLY, showers above all else otherwise

theyre green and white with christmas puppies on them :D

i've had a work of mine go #1 on the charts on webtoon if that counts :sob: i also ran a decently big editing account in like 2020-2021 on tiktok

i'd love to be as well-known as a celebrity, but lowkey i know i'd hate actual fame, and i'd get so overwhelmed being famous. i'd need to be someone with an avatar or mascot in front of me so i could still live a semi-normal life

discussed above in my "favorite song" question, but i like a bunch !!! metal, rock, pop, hiphop, rnb, emo/scenecore songs, etc. etc. etc.

no and i DO NOT WANT TO !!! you will never catch me naked anywhere near a lake, let alone in one.

8 of varying sizes.. im also counting very specific stuffed animals but not all of them, since i use some of them as pillows

on my side curled up...

we live in a two story house with one main story and a basement. main floor has two bedrooms, a bathroom, kitchen and living room combo, while the basement has one bedroom (mine!!), one bathroom, a free space, and our laundry room n pantry :)

i dont. actually eat breakfast.. uhm i like Krave brand cereal with strawberries and i like bagels either with normal cream cheese n strawberries, or fried with ham and an egg

yes i have

yes and i SUCK at it

out of all words? тоска. it sounds like "toska" and is some immeasurable yearning from the bottom of one's heart. smth smth i like words for their meanings because reducing one to its sound is superficial or smth. fr tho for a word i think sounds nice, try "eloquence"

cunt... stickin to the classics here. fuck and shit are ALSO high up here.

a very, very, very horrible 14 and a half days. it sucks. don't do it.

yeah :sob: i have scars all over if you care to look tbh, most of them have luckily just faded

not to my knowledge?

i don't like lying, nor do i make a point to practice. i don't think i am? i tend to panic and give shitty stories when i lie. so.. nah, don't think i am

for all people minus those who matter to me. lord.. show me a picture of a person and i can clock little things about them, but if someone obviously is being horrible to me? nahhhhhh theyre such a nice person they would neverrr...

nope!! can't fake accents very well. i mean.. i can kinda do a southern one ig?

i can speak with an american accent, but i speak pretty naturally with a brit one. one of my largest flaws..

i think slavic and arabic accents are gorgeous..

uhmmm my mbti is INFP-T, and im. sorta just.. me on here... idk how to describe my personality :sob:

i HATE wearing expensive clothes. most expensive article of clothing i own? a carhart jacket that's older than i am

yeppers :)

innie..

ambidextrous :) i use my left primarily to write and my right for almost everything else

no, but i don't like them on me and am terrified of black widows.

I like banana pudding? im not picky at ALL honestly

i like so many... the basic bitch answers of i like most mexican and chinese dishes, but i also like viet and indian foods... uhm im again not picky

im a mess :sob:

"woof..." "oh gosh" or "HELP???" are frequents

idk lowkey i use a lotta words a lot. yapper core...

15-20 minutes from the time i wake up to the time i'm out the door

diagnosed narcissist goes crazy

i just.. let lollies melt on my tongue... no sucking or biting required.. no conscious effort... just leavin it there

uhm i talk outloud to think but also this is biased of multiple consciousnesses in one so it's sometimes hard for me to pin if im.. just.. monologuing purposefully for a headmate or if im just thinking to myself.

i hum, but not sing :)

i think so, but who m i to say

terrified of death, horrified of being forgotten, and i despise being alone..

god no i hate gossip

no clue honestly..

medium

all 50 states AND all european countries

ela and art

ambivert :)

no but i used to live on an island near the mariana trench and it woulda been so fuckin cool to say i scuba dived near the mariana trench..

uhm various people and touchy subjects ig? im not very easily made nervous

YES and i will NOT be taking slander for it

uhm it depends? sometimes i do, sometimes it isnt worth it to, and other times i don't

yeah

no

kinda? hard to say but uhm uhm uhm

goose lore...

.....gooose lore........

a kid named Jack that i will not be getting into for aforementioned lore reasons

rn i only have my one ear piercing, but i used to have my tongue and cheeks pierced too. i wanna get my septum done and my lips (angel fangs or snakebites) when m older

yes if i try hard enough..

anywhere from 60-100 wpm depending on what im typing and if i know what i want to say. but i also fuck up a lot, so.

not very fast..

natural blond rn but i wanna dye it lowkey

blue-green, but ideally brown :)

used to be allergic to red food coloring, but now im just allergic to tylenol... lame..

yeah !! i use digital websites to :)

my father is in the military and works a variety of handymen jobs, and my mother is a hairdresser

ehhh the people around my age that i know are hit or miss, but im not getting any younger and i sure as hell don't wanna be older so

sm stuff :sob: im hard to make mad-mad but there are a few things that make me annoyed. it takes a LOT of time and effort though so yk.

im decently happy with it- there's a slight disconnect from it but overall i think my names are nice :)

Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they?

i really honestly don't care... i dont think much would change with it, right??

i like to think im nice enough, and im smart enough at stuff to say it blankly. im good at my art stuff and im fine enough to take care of myself for the most part :)

im lowk impulsive and i have major trust and abandonment issues :sob:

"August" i stole from auguste toulmouche, sirius is a constellation i relate to (and a certain character that i also liked), and keres was a name that i just. came with. i started using it again recently :)

im not sure, but im directly related to alexander graham belle. like, the guy who made the telephone. family's wiped from all records due to divorces n the like, but yeah :)

im lucky enough that a lot of them are faded, but i have scars pretty much everywhere if you care enough to look for em tbh

my sheers are grey and my blankets are mismatched.. but my comforter is black and so are my two pillow-pillows

My room walls are green and my floor is a brown carpet :)

Get To Know Me Uncomfortably Well

PLEASE DON’T LET THIS FLOP AHHHH

1. What is you middle name? 2. How old are you? 3. When is your birthday? 4. What is your zodiac sign? 5. What is your favorite color? 6. What’s your lucky number? 7. Do you have any pets? 8. Where are you from? 9. How tall are you? 10. What shoe size are you? 11. How many pairs of shoes do you own? 12. What was your last dream about? 13. What talents do you have? 14. Are you psychic in any way? 15. Favorite song? 16. Favorite movie? 17. Who would be your ideal partner? 18. Do you want children? 19. Do you want a church wedding? 20. Are you religious? 21. Have you ever been to the hospital? 22. Have you ever got in trouble with the law? 23. Have you ever met any celebrities? 24. Baths or showers? 25. What color socks are you wearing? 26. Have you ever been famous? 27. Would you like to be a big celebrity? 28. What type of music do you like? 29. Have you ever been skinny dipping? 30. How many pillows do you sleep with? 31. What position do you usually sleep in? 32. How big is your house? 33. What do you typically have for breakfast? 34. Have you ever fired a gun? 35. Have you ever tried archery? 36. Favorite clean word? 37. Favorite swear word? 38. What’s the longest you’ve ever gone without sleep? 39. Do you have any scars? 40. Have you ever had a secret admirer? 41. Are you a good liar? 42. Are you a good judge of character? 43. Can you do any other accents other than your own? 44. Do you have a strong accent? 45. What is your favorite accent? 46. What is your personality type? 47. What is your most expensive piece of clothing? 48. Can you curl your tongue? 49. Are you an innie or an outie? 50. Left or right handed? 51. Are you scared of spiders? 52. Favorite food? 53. Favorite foreign food? 54. Are you a clean or messy person? 55. Most used phrased? 56. Most used word? 57. How long does it take for you to get ready? 58. Do you have much of an ego? 59. Do you suck or bite lollipops? 60. Do you talk to yourself? 61. Do you sing to yourself? 62. Are you a good singer? 63. Biggest Fear? 64. Are you a gossip? 65. Best dramatic movie you’ve seen? 66. Do you like long or short hair? 67. Can you name all 50 states of America? 68. Favorite school subject? 69. Extrovert or Introvert? 70. Have you ever been scuba diving? 71. What makes you nervous? 72. Are you scared of the dark? 73. Do you correct people when they make mistakes? 74. Are you ticklish? 75. Have you ever started a rumor? 76. Have you ever been in a position of authority? 77. Have you ever drank underage? 78. Have you ever done drugs? 79. Who was your first real crush? 80. How many piercings do you have? 81. Can you roll your Rs?“ 82. How fast can you type? 83. How fast can you run? 84. What color is your hair? 85. What color is your eyes? 86. What are you allergic to? 87. Do you keep a journal? 88. What do your parents do? 89. Do you like your age? 90. What makes you angry? 91. Do you like your own name? 92. Have you already thought of baby names, and if so what are they? 93. Do you want a boy a girl for a child? 94. What are you strengths? 95. What are your weaknesses? 96. How did you get your name? 97. Were your ancestors royalty? 98. Do you have any scars? 99. Color of your bedspread? 100. Color of your room?

[threadbearsweater]

i think a crucial part of any online friendship or connection is understanding that we all have lives outside of this space, and it isn't possible to always be present, to always be at the disposal of your online connections. that doesn't mean these people are any less important in your life. they're simply a piece of a much larger picture. a snapshot from your daily experiences. sometimes all we have time for is a hello, how are you, I love you.

sometimes, we can chat at length and type paragraph upon paragraph. sometimes, we talk on the phone, or we send letters or gifts through the mail.

sometimes, we don't talk at all for a few days. or a few weeks. and I think this ought to be the norm, you know? you still mean something to me. I still enjoy your friendship, as little as we speak. we are busy people. we are human. we have hardship. we are busy. we need to eat and rest and go for walks and laugh with our mothers and mow the lawn and see good shows. we cannot possibly do that when there's an unspoken expectation of always being available. it's not healthy for anyone involved, and it will almost always certainly lead to feelings of resentment when one or both parties doesn't feel as if they're being heard or understood.

(i say all of this for no reason in particular, aside from the fact that I was thinking this morning about a couple of previous online friendships where I felt as if I had a responsibility to be there for another person even more than I was present for my family or myself. I think i was as much to blame as the other person when it came to lack of boundaries and unspoken expectations, but I'm so thankful that I've been able to see those situations for what they were and move ahead and finally learn something from some life experiences. I always learn lessons the hard way- multiple times in multiple iterations- but I always feel as if I come away with a profound, renewed sense of self and an understanding of the human condition, deeper than i ever have before.)

tl;dr I am grateful for whatever capacity you can maintain our friendship in. thank you. I love you.

[vmlnrzmp4]

Hiiiii!! I've been waiting for your requests to be open to send in a request lol I love your blue lock dad series so I wanted to request Blue lock dads reacting to the tiktok prank where the mom tells the child to do something and the child tells the mom to shut up to get the dad's reaction.

I hope you understand what I'm trying to say 😭 Thank you <33

"𝘴𝘩𝘶𝘵 𝘶𝘱, 𝘮𝘢."

a/n: this except that it's not a tiktok prank, the daughters are bratty for real. and im glad you like my works :)

itoshi sae

the second the words left natsuki’s lips, everything turned cold. sae, who had been scrolling through his phone, immediately stopped. he turned to look at his daughter with a firm look.

you sighed, shaking your head, "natsuki, that was so uncalled for."

but before you could say more, sae interrupted, "apologize."

natsuki stiffened, "but—"

"now."

he didn't yell and there was no anger in his voice. just firm disappointment.

natsuki swallowed, now feeling guilty, "...i’m sorry, ma."

sae looked away from her, "go to your room. i don’t want to see you right now."

and that hurt. more than his actual scoldings.

itoshi rin

everything froze. sakura never ever spoke to you that way, but today..."...what did you just say?" rin questioned, his voice was dangerous.

"i—i didn’t mean it like that—"

"repeat that," rin ordered firmly.

"i was just mad—" sakura tried to reason but was cut off.

"i don’t care if you’re mad. now will you repeat that?"

sakura stayed silent.

"that's what i thought," rin looks at you if you're alright, your eyes filled with sadness, "apologize."

sakura looked down, mumbling an apology.

"louder. look up."

"...im sorry ma."

isagi yoichi

"yuki," yoichi calls sternly, his voice was so so scary, "how could you say that to your mother?"

"papa, i didn't—i—"

"is that how i raised you yuki?"

the guilt hit yuki like a truck and she looked down, not wanting to see her papa's disappointed face. "...i’m sorry, papa," she whispered.

"don’t apologize to me."

she turned to you immediately, eyes filled with tears, "i’m sorry ma."

frustrated, yoichi runs his hand over his face and yuki sees the displeased look on his face and she couldn't help but let out a sob.

michael kaiser

for once, there was no teasing, no jokes, no laughter. michael was mad. "...repeat that," he asked in a stern but angry tone.

anne hesitated. "...papa, i didn’t mean—"

"repeat it."

she couldn’t.

michael scoffed.

you placed a hand on his arm, but he stepped away, "you know, anne, when i was a kid, i never had a mother who cared enough to argue with me. you? you have that. and you just—" he cut himself off, shaking his head, "go to your room, anne. just...go."

anne had never seen her father so tired, "...i’m sorry, papa," she sobbed but he had already turned away.

she then turned to you with teary eyes, "im sorry ma," she apologizes, her eyes telling you she was sincere. and that she didn't want her papa to be mad at her anymore.

taglist: @anuverse @luciddre @kongkhoi @illyriakrasniqi2007 @passw-0-rd @x3nafix @levihanmyotp @vellichorira @sapph1r3x @tamashithe2nd @p1z-d0n7jud6em3 [open]

[taeyongdoyoung]

beg for you

summary: missing your ex, you stumble upon an interesting song that brings back memories you thought you could bottle up... pairing: vernon x reader genre: angst, smut, exes to online friends to lovers warnings: mentions of past break-up, reader felt neglected and lonely, insecurities, lowkey catfishing+lie by omission, swearing, song-writing themes, some serious talks, hand-holding, kissing, spitting, eating out, fingering, dom!vernon, orgasm denial, public unprotected sex (in a café bathroom), mainly lots of emotions, idk author's note: the fic was inspired by this iconic song, in particular vernon's verse and it has some occasional references to the lyrics in bold word count: 2.6k

It's been three months since you ended things with Vernon, blocked his number and all his socials and tried your best to forget about him. The reason for your break-up was mainly because you felt like he never had time for you, his music always came first and while that was appealing at the start of your relationship, it began to infuriate you and make you feel invisible towards its end. He would stand you up and forget about your dates more than once. He would make you feel like you were always his second choice. Not being around him hurts like hell, because you'd become so used to his presence that the lack of it brings so much emptiness. And also because a part of you still loves him.

One evening, you can't fall asleep so you're scrolling through some music apps. Suddenly you discover a new song. The artist hides their face behind a mask but their voice sounds somewhat familiar. Strangely enough, the lyrics just speak to you:

I don't think I'll ever feel this type of way again (This way again; Yеah, uh, yeah) I beg for you, please (Don't let go), don't let go of me, don't let go of me All the endless conversations about us been going on in our head In the night, we dream a future together and I feel bad in your bed I beg for you, please stay, I can't go a day without No, I can't go a day without you, hoo

So weird. It's like the artist knows exactly what's been on your mind for the past three months. You shut your phone off with a sigh and attempt to get some sleep. The next day, that same melody and those words haunt you. And the following day…It goes on for a while and you've become so obsessed with it that you try to do some research on the artist. Unfortunately, it's not of much help. Nobody knows the identity of the artist, how they look or their real name. It's frustrating but it is what it is. Maybe you should drop it. But then again…you really can't stop thinking about these fucking lyrics and how well they described how you've been feeling.

You decide to do something stupid and slide into the DMs of the anonymous artist. They'll probably never see this message as they have thousands of followers, but still, you need to get this off your chest somehow.

You: Hi, you probably get this a lot but your lyrics are really relatable, like they truly spoke to me and totally represent the way I've been feeling for the past three months. You're incredibly talented and I'd be happy to hear more of your music in the future.

It's a short message, nothing too crazy. You feel a sense of relief once you've sent it. You realize it doesn't matter if the artist ever sees it. You're just happy you were able to express your feelings.

To your immense shock, about 30 minutes later, you receive a notification. This is actually so insane you can't believe your eyes. The anonymous artist…texted you back?!

RevN98: Hi, this really means a lot to me. Actually, I don't get a lot of feedback, as I'm just starting out. I'll try my best to write more music. In what ways did you relate to the lyrics?

Is he seriously…initiating a discussion? It is wild enough he texted you back but the fact he wants to continue texting baffles you. But you are not one to look at a gift horse in the mouth. So, you respond rightaway.

You: I got out of a long-term relationship a couple of months ago and even though I should probably move on already, some part of me wishes my ex begged for me to stay. I know it's probably a selfish thought, considering I'm the one who broke up with the guy, but…I miss him sometimes and I keep thinking of a universe in which he'd fought for me.

After sending that message, you look at it in horror as you realize how personal it was. Why is it so easy to open up to a complete stranger? And not to people who actually know you…

You: Sorry, that was probably a whole bunch of TMI. Anyways, I really thought your lyrics were connected to how I was feeling if that makes sense.

You double text just in case. The response from the mysterious artist comes soon after.

RevN98: It makes sense, yeah. When I was writing them, I was also thinking about my past relationship. Honestly, I kind of wish I'd begged my ex to stay. I thought that by not doing so, I was respecting her wishes and giving her space. But now that it's been a while, I can't help but think I should have expressed myself better. I really miss her, though, so I guess that got reflected in the lyrics somehow.

You take a moment to gather your thoughts and figure out what to text.

You: Aw, man. Whoever your ex is, she's lucky to have such lyrics written about her. Even if it's over, maybe there's a way she finds your music and…I don't know, reconsiders things?

RevN98: Hah, that'd be a dream come true. I don't think she likes the kind of music I make.

You: Why not? Your music is great!

RevN98: Well, the truth is I was spending more time on my music than time with her. So, I guess that's one of the reasons for our break-up.

My God. This feels…too similar to your situation it gives you goosebumps. Despite that, it's like your fingers are possessed as they keep itching to text the anonymous artist back.

You: Time changes the way people feel. Maybe if you're honest with her and how you're feeling, there's a chance for a reconciliation. Or at least some closer. You should call her!

RevN98: I'd love that but she's blocked my number.

You: Use a friend's phone, duh!

RevN98: That'd be suspicious, considering I haven't told any of my friends about our break-up.

You: Dang…you're really not over this girl, huh?

RevN98: Not a chance.

You: So…what are you going to do?

RevN98: I don't know, for the time being texting you helps to ease the pain.

You: Likewise. But just to give you a heads-up, I'm not interested in any rebound relationship.

RevN98: Great. I'm not interested in that, either.

You: So…online buddies, then?

RevN98: Sounds good to me.

It is so strange how quickly the mysterious artist becomes part of your everyday life. You text each other quite often about anything. From what you've had for breakfast to what other music you've been listening to. From where you're planning to go with your friends to…how much you miss your exes. It is truly extraordinarily easy to talk to them. You still don't know much. How they look, what their real name is, where they live…But somehow it's enough knowing they're out there making awesome and relatable music.

Until one day it isn't.

You: We should meet up!

RevN98: I don't think that is a good idea…My schedule's crazy lately.

You: What do you mean? It's not like you have live performances.

You point out the obvious because from what you've gathered, maintaining this anonymity is key to RevN98.

RevN98: I just don't feel comfortable meeting in person…

You: Are you worried I'd expose your identity? You know I'm not that kind of person, right?

RevN98: I'm not worried about that. It's hard to explain. It would make sense if we met up, which is exactly why we can't meet up.

You: I'm super confused right now. But you know how important honesty is to me. So, it's now or never, I guess. If you don't want to meet up in the near future, I don't think I want to continue being friends…

You wait a couple of minutes, to give them a chance to make a decision. Finally, the response comes.

RevN98: Okay, let's meet up.

They text you a time and place. And then you ask the crucial question.

You: How will I know it's you?

RevN98: Trust me, you'll know.

This is…so cryptic. You guess you'll just have to rely on the fact that there are a bunch of photos of you on your profile, so the musician would be able to recognize you first.

When you arrive at the small café, you look around nervously, waiting. Negative thoughts keep haunting your mind. What if they change their mind in the last minute and stand you up? What if they are disappointed upon meeting you and never want to text you again? What if you were too harsh by giving an ultimatum? What if-

So many scenarios and you failed to consider the one that truly matters.

What if…you run into your ex at said café? What are the fucking odds?!

"What are you doing here?" you ask Vernon, sounding a bit too rude. Better to be rude than to burst into tears or something more embarrassing.

"Waiting for you," Vernon replies simply.

"What are you talking about?" you blink in confusion. Until it clicks…No. Freaking. Way.

Vernon sighs and takes his phone out, showing you the texts between you and RevN98. And the only explanation is…fucking hell. He is RevN98.

"Please, tell me you're joking right now."

"I wish I was," Vernon looks down, feeling guilty.

"How could you do this to me?" you inquire, eyes welling up already. You feel so weak upon seeing him.

"What was I supposed to do? You had me blocked on everything."

"What, and writing me a song under a false name sounded like the greatest idea?" you snap at him.

"I just needed to talk to you again. Somehow."

"Why? What is there to say?"

"I miss you," Vernon murmurs.

"You lied to me," you insist stubbornly.

"Please come back to me," he keeps trying.

"It's too late…" you try to reject him gently.

"I'm begging you," Vernon really wants a second chance.

You shake your head, but your hands are already reaching for his. Desperate to hold them one more time, you lean closer.

"I'm not taking you back," you keep fighting it.

"Okay," he nods.

"We're just…gonna talk, yeah? Seems a waste of my great outfit to go back home."

"Okay," Vernon repeatss.

As the two of you sit down to have a chat, suddenly all of the unsaid words and undelivered messages bubble up to the surface.

"I should have fought for you. I mean it. Music is important to me but not as much as you. You are my muse, how could I go another day without you?"

"It seems you've been doing a great job writing music without me," you say bitterly.

"Oh, yeah?" Vernon raises his eyebrows cockily. "Well, I bet I can write even better if you're back in my life."

"I was too harsh," you admit. "I let my overthinking and insecurities get the worst of me. When I broke up with you, it seems I had forgotten how much I love music, too. I was so caught up in my own dark thoughts that I didn't matter to you that things escalated."

"You had a point," Vernon chuckles sadly. "I wasn't giving you the attention you needed. The attention you deserve. I was being selfish."

"I was selfish, too," you confess. "I shouldn't have made you feel like you needed to make a choice between me and music."

"I would pick you. For the record."

"Record is exactly what you'll be making," you tease him. "I'm serious. I need to hear more of what you've been working on."

"I'd love to show you. But there's something else I'd like to do first," Vernon smirks mischievously.

He grabs your hand and takes you to the café's bathroom. He pushes you inside a free booth and locks the door behind him. He kisses you under the bathroom lights eagerly, not wanting to let go ever again.

"Hey!" you chide him playfully. "I said I wasn't taking you back."

"Too bad. 'Cause I'm taking you," Vernon says assertively.

"You…you've changed," you blink in surprise.

"I'll take that as a compliment," Vernon smiles and his palms dig into your lower back deliciously, as he kisses you again. "God, I missed this taste."

"You're insane," you laugh but you can't find it in you to deny it any longer. You want him so bad.

"Don't let go of me," he repeats the song's lyrics in your ear.

"I won't. As long as you promise the same," you ask.

Vernon doesn't say a word as he kneels in front of you. He picks up one of your legs and swings it over his shoulder as pulls your panties to the side. Suddenly, you're so grateful for your genius decision to wear a dress. He spits on your pussy and attacks your folds with his skilled tongue. You're already losing your mind over how good it feels, when suddenly, he pulls back.

You gasp in disappointment as your pleasure was so abruptly interrupted.

"Beg me," Vernon commands you easily. "Beg me to make you come."

"You're fucking insane," you refuse. You've always had a little bit of a brat in you.

Vernon, however, doesn't seem perturbed by your refusal to cooperate and sticks one finger inside you, teasing you slow enough to frustrate you but not fast enough to get you there. It hurts so sweetly you both hate and love it.

"Beg me," he repeats.

It would be so easy to do that. Just to get that sweet release…But the stubborn part of you is still stronger than the part of you that wants to come.

''Try harder," you grin cruelly.

Vernon is not one to back down from a challenge and unleashes his final weapon. He takes off his jeans and slides his hard cock inside you. Fuck. You'd forgotten how girthy he is.

"I missed you so much," he whispers in your ear. And his genuine words affect you more than his actions. And oh, how terribly you've missed him, too.

You hold on to the back of his neck, needing him for support. He keeps tormenting you, not moving a lot, just making you feel so full but so dissatisfied at the same time. You truly can't take it anymore.

"P-please, let me c-come," you beg for him hopelessly.

"There's my good girl," Vernon smiles proudly and adjusts his movements, adding pressure with his fingers so that you come in mere seconds.

"T-thank you, thank you," you chant, not knowing what demon possessed you to act this way.

"So polite," he laughs adorably and holds you close as he reaches his own high.

You don't want to let go of him ever again. But you're gonna have to, because you hear angry people who want to use the bathroom. Uh-oh.

You quickly try to clean each other up and rush outside, cheeks red with embarrassment.

You get a few weird looks from random people, but honestly, it doesn't matter. This felt too good.

"Sooo…" Vernon says once you've arrived at his chill but cozy apartment. "Does this mean you'll take me back?"

"Hmm, I don't know. Beg me nicely?" you suggest teasingly.

"Oh, you know I will," Vernon promises.

Bonus:

"Veeern, it's been hours, didn't you finish the song already?" you complain, desperate for his attention.

"Just five-"

"Don't you dare finish that sentence," you warn him, though you don't really mean it. You're just playing around. You know he cares about you deeply. Perhaps more deeply that he lets on.

"Won't you wait another hour or two?" Vernon teases you back.

"You know what? I'd wait as long as it takes," you smile and put your lips on his lips.

The End

[kingkat12]

forever (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of blood, ANGST (SORRY IN ADVANCE)

summary: nothing will ever be the same again after you've find out what Roman truly is-- you can be sure of that now.

word count: 5,093

PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13

a/n: GOSH I'M BACK! 13 is the lucky number (not). this chapter is a bit shorter than usual, but it's more than enough for this scene... I can't breathe omg. thank you to everyone that has helped me with brainstorming and clearing my mind about this scene, specifically @mentallyscreamingsincebirth who read about 7 different drafts (poor soul), and I'M SO SORRY. SO SO SORRY Y'ALL. ENJOY... tbh that's not the right word, so, good luck!!!

Loving Roman had consequences right from the start.

However, I never imagined it would lead to this. 

My hands trembled as I clutched the knife, though I couldn't tell if it was from fear or the sheer weight of the situation. Roman hadn't moved an inch since I'd pointed it at him, but the way he loomed in front of me made every second stretch unbearably long. The silence in the room was deafening, broken only by the faint hum of the fridge-- my breath caught in my throat as he tilted his head, his green eyes flickering with something unreadable, something quiet.

Then, without warning, a slow exhale left his lips as though he was indifferent-- Roman's shoulders slackened, the tension bleeding from his frame as if this entire moment had bored him. And then, just like that, he put his tux jacket on the kitchen island before he turned away.

I flinched at the movement, but all Roman did was step toward the fridge, peeling it open with a lazy sort of ease. He bent down, rummaging through the shelves, shifting the milk aside like I wasn't still standing there, terrified.

I turned with him, still pointing the blade in his direction as my pulse threatened to rupture my ears-- this was the biggest mind-fuck of the century. This night was. My brows drew together as I dared to speak, confusion drowning my anxious words; "What are you doing?"

Roman shrugged. "I have a feeling this is gonna take a while, and I'm really fucking hungry. Do you know how many calories you burn from beating up assholes?" Another sigh followed--  he continued to speak into the fridge as he shuffled through the vegetables; "You're not wearing your dress."

It sounded like a casual remark, yet I knew it was loaded with the intent of getting me to explain myself. The longer I stayed quiet, the more I could hear my heart pound. "I changed,"

"Where?" 

"... Here?" 

Roman shook his head, remnants of a knowing smirk painting his lips-- it didn't reach his eyes. "I don't think we should be starting this conversation off with more lies," 

His words were chilling. I struggled to find mine. I cleared my throat over and over as my hands got clammy around the knife I had yet to lower; "I don't know what you're talking about,"

"Come on," Roman huffed, rolling his eyes as he straightened up, reaching for the handle of the fridge. When he turned his head to meet my gaze, I felt my breathing knot itself in my chest-- I hated this feeling. I hated being scared of my boyfriend. I hated that I couldn't bring myself to put away the kitchen knife I was still pointing at him. Roman continued; "I've been waiting for you for about... what, fifteen minutes? You didn't change here, and those clothes aren't yours."

Fighting the urge to stay tongue-tied, I snapped; "And you shouldn't have broken into my house in the first place! That's crossing all fucking boundaries!--"

BOOM.

The fridge door slammed shut with a force that rattled the shelves.

I jolted. A sharp, pathetic squeak clawed up my throat before I could stop it. My pulse jumped, breath hitching-- fuck.

Roman had never looked more intimidating; "I see we're past talking about boundaries!" he hissed, glancing down at the knife in my trembling hands. His attempts at containing his anger were cracking.

"Fine," I bit back. "Let's talk about the important piece of information you so conveniently failed to tell me, then!"

Roman blinked. I knew him too well; I could see his mind racing behind those big, beautiful eyes. I shouldn't be looking into them. "The car crash?" he asked, attempting to soften his voice. Something told me he got hopeful that he had hit bingo about the subject, and that he could somehow salvage this; "I'll tell you everything you want, baby. No problem, okay? Where do you want me to start?--"

"Don't fuck with me, Roman!" One of my hands left the knife as my tremble subsided, and I steadied my stance. "Enough!" 

Roman's fists clenched, and his gaze pierced mine with rays of ice. It took him some time to let it sink in-- we were about to have this conversation, whether he wanted to or not. We were going to talk about what he was. Despite the horror of the situation, my body filled with a satisfaction unlike anything I had ever felt before; I had pieced it together. I had cornered him. I had caught the liar, and I had done it all by myself. 

However, the liar in question didn't want to relent so easily; "This is about Daniel, isn't it? The little shit who confessed he'd get off to snapping your neck in half?"

"It's... What?" My frustration possessed me as I gestured with the knife, exasperated. "No, Roman! It's not that, and you know it!"

Roman let out a quick, icy breath as his fists clenched and unclenched-- deny, deny, deny. "He had it coming," he breathed. "I don't get why you're holding a knife at me for giving that guy what he deserved!"

"That's not why I'm!--"

"You think I went too far?" Roman scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. Deny, deny, deny. "You think I should've let him walk away after hurting you, is that it?"

This was beyond frustrating now. It was infuriating, actually. Roman's dismissal of the real topic of concern drove me into a state I hadn't been in before; it almost made my vision go red. Then, it took me a second to realize my vision was blurring because of more causes than one-- with tears pooling in my eyes, I watched as Roman continued his angry rant;

"I don't get you! Why the fuck are you pulling a knife on your boyfriend for protecting you?! I was the one who saved you, I was the one who made sure you got the revenge you deserved, and what do I get in return? That terrified look on your fucking face?!" 

Roman was yelling now. 

Yelling.

I kept telling myself he didn't mean it, that he was simply anxious to face the truth that I knew his biggest secret, but... now that I knew what he was, it only made me grip the knife harder. What if he suddenly pounced at me? What if he got so overcome by anger that he lunged my way out of pure instinct?

I flinched when Roman raised his hands, yet I let out a shaky breath of relief when they went to his hair, ripping at the tips of his brown locks in frustration; "I have done everything to protect you! I-- I messed him up, okay, but!--"

Enough. "Protect me?! You think this is protection?!"

The panic Roman had painted across his face for sympathy got wiped away the second I raised my voice too. His act wasn't working. His distractions weren't working. Nothing was. "It is," he hissed.

"No!" The tears that had welled in my eyes threatened to spill. "You should've left me alone the second you started feeling anything for me! That would've been protection, that would've mercy!" 

Roman closed his eyes and sucked in a sharp line of air-- "Don't say that," he breathed. "You're crossing the line."

"Crossing... the line?!" 

"You are," he continued, blindly gesturing at the knife. "Point your knives, call me whatever, say all the shit you want, but not that. What we have is damn near holy to me, so keep that out of your mouth."

I had half the mind to throw the knife at him. Enough was enough, I couldn't stand it anymore; "You're insane!" I yelled. "You're batshit crazy, and you're out of your fucking mind if you think that you were protecting me all this time! You've only put me in danger!"

Roman's eyes widened with offence. "I have not!--"

"You urged me to slice my hand in front of you, and you sucked my fucking blood that time you decided you wanted to blood-bind us or whatever the fuck those vials were for! How dare you put me in that situation when you know what you are?!"

Silence.

In the void of sound we had created, I could hear a light tapping against the windows-- it was raining. Outside, the grass was given the opportunity to grow. At this very moment, flowers all around were watered with new energy for life; yet here I was, being drained of all of mine.

Roman's face twitched with multiple emotions, unable to decide which one to settle for as he lowered his gaze. Had he ever prepared for this moment? I wondered if he had. I wondered whether he had ever laid in bed at night, riddled with guilt and the weight of the world, and whether he had ever thought about coming clean. Had he thought he could get away with it, that I would never find out? 

Finally, Roman opened his mouth; "I..." 

It didn't take long before it shut again.

A shaky breath escaped me when I realized my knuckles were going white around the knife. I was about to say something, maybe even dig deep into my soul to search for words of comfort; yet when Roman's eyes fully focused on mine again, I felt my whole world freeze over.

Roman's pupils widened, fixating on me as though I was prey, a big deer in the wilderness. He knew the act was up, that the game was over, and instead of facing it, he fixated on the one thing he felt he could still control. His words came out with a low growl; "You have something of mine,"

... What? 

He took a threatening step forward. 

My breath hitched; I readied my brain for possible combat. 

"The vial," Roman hissed. "Where is it?" 

Another step.

"It's mine. If this is how you want to do this, I want it back,"

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. "Back-- Back off!--"

With Roman's next step, my body tensed up with the realization that he was speeding up--

It was now or never.

With a shriek, I tossed the knife in his direction out of pure fear, and ran out of the kitchen as my screams emptied my lungs. The pounding of my heart filled my ears as I heard the clashing of pots and pans, possibly the sound of Roman jumping over the kitchen island to get to me, and it only made me panic more.

He called out my name, a yell of rage, as I made it past the living room and into the hallway. 

I was running for my life. 

I was running for my life. 

A ragged scream tore from my throat as I snatched the nearest object, a flimsy umbrella, and flung it behind me without looking. It didn't matter. He'd dodge it. He'd always dodge it.

Tears burned down my face, blurring the steps ahead as I bolted up the stairs. My chest heaved, my legs burned, but I pushed-- pushed like my life depended on it, because it did.

I was going to die, wasn't I?

This was it.

But for a second, a stupid, desperate second, my brain tricked me; maybe I could make it? Maybe I could outrun him? Maybe, maybe I could get out of this alive?

I chanced a glance over my shoulder--

Roman wasn't there.

My heart stopped. Relief slammed into me so hard that my knees nearly buckled.

Too soon.

I saw it too late-- the flicker of movement at the edge of my vision.

Roman's hand, appearing at the top of the banister.

He hadn't run up the stairs. He'd jumped. From the first floor to the second in a single, monstrous leap.

A scream ripped from my throat as he vaulted over the railing, his body a blur, his weight crashing into me before I could even think to run.

My back hit the ground hard, but before I could even feel the pain, something else registered.

His hand. Between my head and the floor, cushioning the blow.

My breath stuttered, my body locked in pure terror as I fought, thrashed, pounded my fists against his chest-- but it was useless. He didn't budge.

My heartbeat was a deafening drumbeat of panic; I wasn't getting away. I wasn't getting away.

I wasn't getting away.

Then, Roman grabbed my hands and slammed them to the floor, pinning me down with a groan. His voice was sharp, teetering on the edge of control; "Stop it!" he yelled. "Stop fighting! I'm not going to hurt you!"

I squeezed my eyes shut, the tears still coming. I didn't believe him. I couldn't believe him.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" he continued. "Since when do you throw knives at me?!" 

I kept trying to kick him off. It didn't work. Nothing did.

Roman's chest heaved above mine, his grip tightening before he seemed to catch himself-- his fingers loosened just slightly. His voice dropped, a thread of disbelief woven through the frustration. "You're really afraid of me, aren't you?"

I let out a quiet sob, unable to speak.

Roman's breath shook, his head tilting as if seeing me for the first time. He exhaled through his nose, but his next words wavered; "After all this time... you really think I could hurt you?"

Something in his voice made me pause. He wasn't just angry anymore, he was... wounded. 

"After everything?" he breathed. His fingers curled around my wrists, but this time, they trembled.

I didn't answer. I couldn't.

That silence, that awful, confirming silence, broke him. Roman's expression crumpled as he clutched my wrists like a lifeline, his breath uneven. The anger drained from him in an instant, replaced by something desperate, raw, broken. 

"You're breaking my heart," he breathed.

The words shattered between us.

I stilled, my own heartbeat stammering.

In the muted space of my lack of words, Roman let out a quiet, shuddering laugh, his green eyes glossing over. "Letha told you, didn't she?" His voice cracked, barely above a whisper; "You're wearing her clothes, and you kinda smell like her expensive incense for crazy people. Don't tell me she performed some ritual on you?"

I swallowed hard. Telling him the truth felt dangerous; I needed to protect my last ally, didn't I? "No," I whispered. "No rituals. There was no Letha. I figured it out by myself... I-- I read a book." At least there was some truth to what I was saying.

Roman uttered something between a scoff and a choked breath, shaking his head. His lips curled, but there was no humor in it. "All by yourself?" he muttered. "That's my girl."

Acid filled my next words, overcome by emotion; "You left me no choice,"

"I didn't?"

"You didn't,"

"That's nonsense," Roman mumbled. "We could've avoided all of this. We could've had a few good years with you in the dark."

His face was too hard to read. His expressive eyes were so cold and hard with his conviction-- he really believed that, didn't he? "Years?" I whispered. "With me... in the dark?"

"Yeah," Breathless. He was breathless. "A decade, maybe."

It didn't take me long to piece it together. It would take a decade until he looked considerably younger than me. Would he have let me in on his secret then? 

"That wouldn't have been enough," I said, choking back my tears. "I wanted a whole life with you, Roman."

His next inhale was shaky, yet quick-- finally, he could be sure that he had lost. "So you... you really know, now?"

I knew.

I knew. 

And I could barely speak it; "That you're a upir? Yeah,"

Roman had yet to let me go. "Fuck..." he breathed, nodding to himself. "There goes that."

There it goes.

All the stolen glances, all the kisses, all the joy, all the love.

It was draining the life out of the both of us. "I'm not going to ask you to forgive me," Roman tried. "But can I at least... please have the vial?" His voice broke at the end of his sentence, and he bit down on his bottom lip to keep it from quivering.

My words came out with a tremble; "I-- I threw it away. It was affecting you horribly, and I don't want that for you... I don't want you to be in pain, Roman, despite everything you are,"

He sucked in a sharp breath, his whole body locking up as if my words had just stabbed into him. "I'll have nothing of you, then?" His voice was barely there, so fragile it made my chest ache. "When you leave me, I'll... I'll have nothing?"

I blinked. When I leave?

Was he... planning to let me go?

"You're breaking my heart," Roman echoed, his shoulders trembling as he let go of my wrists to cradle my face in his hands. 

The touch nearly made me flinch. Had I not been so intent on my survival, I would've pushed him away with a shudder. I didn't want him touching me, not now that I knew who and what he was, yet I endured it for the sake of my life. 

Roman's grip faltered as he watched me fail to hide my fear, and his fingers trailed to my cheeks as he took in the look on my face.

"I can never trust you again," I whispered. "Never hold you, never kiss you... Not now that I know what you are."

Roman's fingers slowly brushed over my cheek, shaking. "But... it was supposed to be you and me," he breathed. "Forever."

Forever.

The word sent a sharp ache through my ribs.

Roman's eyes shut, his face twisting with something too deep to name. "I know I should've stayed away..." A shuddering inhale. "I should've just kept on being miserable." 

I choked down a sob; "Rome," I whispered. What else was there to say?

The nickname hit him like a bullet. Roman's voice was rough when he dared to speak; "I wasn't supposed to feel like this for anyone... That was my one rule," He pulled back just enough to look at me. His eyes were bloodshot, and his jaw was tight like he was forcing the words out. "I don't know when it happened, and I don't know how it happened, but I woke up one day and realized that I-- fuck!" 

Overcome by his emotions, Roman let out a sharp, bitter laugh; "I didn't want this, okay? I didn't-- God, I didn't fucking want to feel anything for you at all! I didn't want us to ever happen in the first place!"

The words should've hurt. They were meant to hurt, why else would Roman say them? But the way he said them, so wrecked, so lost, made my heart ache instead.

Roman exhaled hard, tilting his head back like he was trying to keep it together. "You have no idea how much I fought feeling anything for you... You have no idea how many times I told myself that it was nothing, that it would go away, and that you were just!--" He stopped, his breath hitching. "That you were just some meaningless girl, something temporary, a distraction at most, and not!--"

He didn't say it.

He couldn't. 

Not yet.

"And I--" Roman stopped, like the next part physically hurt to say. "I should've told you about this, I should've told you who I am. You deserved that much, and I tried, I swear! I-- I wanted to. But every time I got close,  every time I thought, this is it, tell the fucking girl, be a man, I'd look at you and-- and I got scared."

Finally, I could be sure the world was going under. The notorious Roman Godfrey was scared, and even worse, admitting to it. 

"Because if I told you, you'd leave!" he said, voice raw with pain. "And I couldn't-- I can't!--"  He was shattering right before my eyes, shattering into a million pieces. "Fuck, you have to understand! I didn't keep it from you to hurt you, I kept it from you because I'd lose everything!"

Roman swallowed hard, and in the smallest, quietest voice, he whispered; "I never, ever wanted to lose you. Nothing else matters like this, I-- I love you too much to function,"

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

Roman Godfrey... loved me?

He loved me.

Roman loved me.

And here he was, looking down at me with those big, pleading, green eyes like it would fix everything. Like it would fix the fact that he could kill me within a second. Like it would fix his blood-thirst. 

"Please," he breathed, heartbroken with my lack of response. "You're not saying anything. Please say something."

All the times I had sensed something was wrong and convinced myself I was crazy rushed through my mind, clouding my shock at Roman's confession. It was torturous how he had let me remain in the dark for so long. Was that love, or was that selfishness?

I knew the answer.

"That's not love, Roman," I whispered. "That's fear."

His face fell. "No," he tried. "Don't-- Don't say that, it's not--"

"You say you didn't tell me because you didn't want to lose me, but what do you think this is? What do you think is happening right now?" My voice wavered, heat rushing to my face. "You talk about love like it's this big, tragic thing you had no control over, but you chose to lie to me above all else! You chose to put me in danger every time you were ever near me!"

I pushed against his chest, my body trembling with the force of my anger; Roman could've easily stayed put, could've easily kept me pinned to the ground, yet he relented, his eyes wide with hurt as he allowed me to push him away and sit up.

"You let me walk around and doubt myself for months, Roman! You let me drive myself crazy, trying to understand what the hell was wrong with me and why I was even doubting you, when this whole time-- this whole time, you were lying to my face!"

Roman ran a hand through his hair, looking wrecked. "What did you want me to do?!--"

"Anything but this, you fucking asshole!" I shoved myself off the floor, feeling my heart pound. "And you don't get to look at me like that, like I've wrecked your life! You don't get to act like this is just something sad that happened to us when this could've been prevented all along if you'd just stayed the fuck away!"

"That's not fair!" Roman yelled through the tears welling in his eyes. "You were basically throwing yourself at me!--"

"And you shouldn't have let me!" 

"Come on!" Desperate, Roman reached for me, but I jerked away so fast that I nearly tripped.

"Don't!" My voice cracked, but it didn't matter. "Don't you fucking touch me, how dare you!" Every nerve in my body was screaming at me to tell him that I loved him too, that we could find a way to make it work, that I would always love him no matter what... but Letha's warnings ran through my head.

She had told me he was dangerous. She told me about his urges, how he would forever be hungry for blood, and that I risked my life every minute I was near him. Letha explained how Roman could hear the heartbeats of everyone within a certain radius, and that every thump reminded him of how hungry he was.

But now, as I looked into his hurt eyes, I could only see...

Pain.

I couldn't look at him anymore. I couldn't hurt him any longer, as Letha said I needed to do-- I had to move. Roman's voice was a faint echo as I started taking shaky steps toward my bedroom; there was no chance I'd outrun him if he wanted to chase me again, so I walked. It didn't take long before I heard him scrambling up from the floor as well, following me into my room. 

I could feel him behind me when I stepped inside.

The door clicked shut.

My heart pounded, and I knew he could hear it. I knew.

"Baby--"

"Don’t," I breathed, stopping in the middle of the room before I turned around to face him. Even at this moment, he was beautiful. He was breathtaking in his shirt, even though his previously neat hairstyle had fallen apart with all the running and struggling. How was this fair?

I heard the shift in Roman's breathing, and how he tried to swallow the desperation in his throat. "You’re scared of me,”

I squeezed my eyes shut. "Yes,”

"You don’t have to be," he whispered. "I would never--"

"I do,"

A sharp, broken exhale. He took a step closer, daring to get in my personal space, and I flinched before I could stop myself.

Roman froze.

Silence. Again.

And then--

He dropped to his knees.

I gasped. His hands clutched the fabric of my shirt, Letha's shirt, his forehead pressing against my stomach like he was praying to me. His breath was shaky, his fingers curling and uncurling as if he didn’t know whether to hold me or let me go.

"Please," His voice was wrecked, hoarse with unshed tears. "Please don’t do this."

I stood frozen, my hands shaking at my sides. I wanted to cradle him, wanted to sink down to the floor and hold him, but I couldn't move.

Roman pressed a kiss to my stomach, then another. Then my ribs. Then my hip. A desperate, reverent kind of touch. Not to seduce, not to possess-- but to beg.

"I love you," His voice cracked, his lips ghosting over the fabric of my shirt. "I love you so much, I can’t-- fuck, I can’t lose you!--"

"Roman--"

His body shuddered against mine, his fingers twitching where they clung to me, like if he just held on tightly enough, none of this would be real. "I can control it," he pleaded. "I swear, I swear, baby, please!--"

I swallowed hard, my throat tight. I wanted to believe him so bad, wanted to relent, yet Letha's voice echoed in my head; "He will hurt you,"

"I won’t hurt you," he choked out, contradicting my every thought. "I’d rather die."

My breath hitched as my hands trembled, longing to reach for him. I pressed my lips together, trying to force down the sob rising in my throat; "If you don't want to hurt me, you-- you have to leave. You have to let me go," 

Roman's fingers clutched the fabric of my shirt as he shook his head, a frantic, shattered movement. No, no, no. "I don’t want to," His voice was raw. "Don’t make me. Please don't-- please don't make me."

I squeezed my eyes shut. Don’t look at him. Don’t look at him. "Roman..."

He knew he had lost. It was over. There was nothing more to say. Slowly, painfully, he pulled back, looking up at me with wide, devastated eyes, silent tears streaking his face. He pressed one last, trembling kiss to my hip.

And then--

Roman let go.

He pushed himself up onto unsteady legs. Stumbled back, one step, two.

Heavy. 

Everything was, until I felt the relief of his eyes leaving mine. It felt like the weight of his attention lifted a ton from my shoulders. But the momentary solace quickly left me when I watched Roman's gaze shift--

He stilled.

The change was instant. His entire body locked up so tight it was like something inside him had snapped. His breath came shallow, his shoulders rising and falling in sharp, stuttered movements. His fingers flexed and curled like they didn’t know what to do.

I followed his line of sight with my breath catching in my chest, and my stomach dropped when I saw what he was looking at.

The book.

That fucking book. 

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir.

It lay there on my nightstand, its pages still open, marked by the frantic creases my fingers had pressed into them over and over again. There was no hiding it now.

With a sharp turn, I glanced back at Roman with huge eyes, wondering whether anger would take over his body and trigger him to chew me to death. But alas-- nothing.

Roman didn’t move.

He just stared. His lips parted slightly, his lashes fluttering as he blinked through the tears in his eyes, but he didn’t speak. I could see it, the way the pieces started clicking into place in his mind, how the dots connected in a way that destroyed him.

Finally, we both knew it was over. 

Then--

Defeated, Roman turned away.

It was sudden, almost violent, the way he ripped himself away. He staggered toward my window, one hand swiping at his face as he smeared his tears into his skin, his breath a sharp, hollow sound. His entire body shook like he was barely keeping himself together, like the second he stepped outside, he would completely break apart.

Roman reached for the window.

Shoved it open.

But just for a second, he hesitated.

For a second.

For me.

He waited.

He was begging me to say something, to stop him, to tell him he didn’t have to go.

But I didn’t. I couldn't.

So, Roman climbed through the window I had snuck him in through countless times. We had shared countless kisses there; kisses of passion, kisses of joy, kisses goodbye, kisses hello. But now, there would be no more. 

With one final look back, his green eyes seared into mine with a look I would never forget.

And then--

Roman Godfrey was gone. 

I stood there for longer than I'd ever admit to anyone, staring at the empty space he'd left behind, waiting for him to come back. I could still smell him-- the deep cologne and the faint, metallic tinge of blood clinging to my shirt where he'd been pressed against me just minutes ago. It was Daniel's blood, a trace of what had happened earlier tonight. I couldn't believe I had been happy just a few hours ago. A few hours was all it took to unravel everything. 

It was like he had left a ghost of himself behind--- something half-alive, something that would never quite let go of me.

Nothing but the sound of my own breathing filled up the room. It sounded too loud, too shaky. My fingers drifted into my pocket without thinking, curling around the cold glass buried there.

The vials clinked together as I rolled them between my fingers-- his blood, my blood, trapped inside two fragile little prisons, always touching but never quite meeting.

I brought them to my lips, squeezing my eyes shut— I could never get rid of them. Never.

If I crushed them right now, if I just closed my fist and shattered them into a thousand tiny shards, maybe this whole nightmare would shatter with them? Maybe I would wake up and he would still be here, begging me not to send him away? Maybe I could've made a different choice? Maybe he would wrap his arms around me again and swear that he would never hurt me, and maybe this time I would believe him?

But I didn't crush them-- I couldn't.

Instead, I pressed the glass harder against my lips until I tasted the salt of my tears on the rim.

At least in this form, we could be together.

Forever.

(a/n: ... sorry not sorry. this was heartbreaking to write, believe me. but this isn't the last chapter, that will be the next, and y'all are in for a RIDE!! thank you so so much for reading this, aaaand just quick psa, I will not be compensating anyone for their possible need for an ambulance or any funeral services cause I'm obv evil:))) JK MWAH🥹🌸 THANK YOUUU<333)

here are all the chapters!<3: PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13

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[scorpioriesling]

Hear me out: (an x reader)

Liam, Ridoc and Dain.

Liam/Ridoc/Reader start with some #7 for celebrating.

Goes into a lil bit of #34 ofc cuz alcohol.

#34 plays into #13.

#13 turns into the other first year (whoever isn’t mackin on reader) doin a bit of #61.

Then Dain somehow catches them and they invite him in bc who doesn’t love a squad leader joining his fav first years ;)) with a bit of #68. He’s hesitant but he secretly loves it sooo.

Thank you for coming to my TED Talk. :)

Life Of The Party

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

Pairing(s): Modern!Liam x Ridoc x Dain x reader

Warning(s): 18+, mdni, smut

Summary: When attending a sorority party with your two roommates, you never imagined anything could go wrong -- but, how could it be so wrong if it felt so right?

SR’s Note: You guys are HUNGRY for these foursomes lmaoooo I love it. This is my first ever story with Dain... oof, let's see how that goes. I did change up a little, making it more of a modern-college-frat-roomie situation, and Y/N is in her sophomore year with Liam and Ridoc (let's pretend, here) while Dain is in his junior year. Other than that, enjoy some more smut involving our favorite men (; This uses prompts #7, #13, #34, #61, and #68! This is long, and took 3 days to write -- but on God, it might be one of my favorites of all time.

Tags: @mellowmusings @rcarbo1 @lilah-asteria @kitsunetori @velarisdusk @nctsawrus (inbox me or comment if you'd like to be added!)

･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Y/N, I already told you -- I do not want to go to Violet's party-"

"Oh come onnnn," you whined, sporting a pouty face when Liam frowned at you. "She's our friend, and it'll be really fun!"

Your tone isn't convincing enough.

"I just don't want to go through an entire night watching her and Xaden eat eachother alive-"

"Woah!" Ridoc exclaims, waltzing into the kitchen lazily. He scratched at his tousled hair, his eyes still widening from his slumber. "Who's eating who?"

Liam chuckled at your shared roomate, but you only rolled your eyes.

"Violet is throwing another party tonight," you explained, hoping that the mention of your shared friend would pique Ridoc's interest. "She said it's some kind of fundraiser for her sorority-"

"Ooh, yeah. Uh. I'm out." Ridoc holds up both hands in surrender, and you huff.

"What is it with you two and not wanting to go tonight?" You frown, crossing your arms over your chest. "It's a party, for Christ's sakes -- I figured you of all people wouldn't want to miss that," you accuse, your eyes slicing to Ridoc.

"And you," you continue, zeroing in on Liam. "... wouldn't miss the chance to see your best friend. Isn't it obvious that Xaden will be there?"

Liam shrugs, his eyebrows raising as if he's considering the invitation.

"Yeah, he'll be there -- those two are connected at the hip," Ridoc starts.

"They're connected in more places than just that-"

"Ew!" You shout, covering your face with your hands. "Liam, that's disgusting."

Him and Ridoc howl in laughter as you work to get the mental image of your friend and her boyfriend being... well, connected.

"Anyways," Ridoc says, working to control his breathing. "What I was saying was that if Xaden is there, so is the rest of his frat." He shrugs as though he'd made up his mind.

"And, what's the problem with that?" You ask, brow raised. Before Ridoc can respond, Liam answers for him.

"You know those guys, Y/N -- the short one that tries to be everybody's friend... well, he's okay I guess."

"Sawyer?"

Liam nods. "Yeah, hes fine -- but the other ones, I mean... Bodhi, that freshman Aaric," he grimaces. "Their new VP? What's his name?"

"Dain." Ridoc says flatly, and Liam snaps his fingers before pointing at him.

"Right! Yeah, him." You huff a short laugh.

"I've never even met the guy before, what could be so-"

"Everything, Y/N." Ridoc responds lowly. "Everything, is so wrong with the guy."

You roll your eyes for what felt like the millionth time this evening.

"He isn't just the VP for their frat, ya know." Liam continues, and you slide your gaze to him. "He's the top of their class, apparently he's being considered for the class president role-"

"Okay, how do I not even know who we're talking about?" You ask.

Ridoc holds a flat hand just above his head. "About, this tall? Brown hair, tan-ish guy... I'm sure you've seen him around," he explains. You rack your brain, trying to think of anyone you'd seen on campus with that description. No one was coming to mind, which was concerning since you were sure you'd know someone just a year older than you with that kind of title.

"I don't know," you give up, and Ridoc drops his hand. "I thought their class president title was given to Imogen, anyway?"

Liam shakes his head.

"Nah, they wanted that asshole over her I guess." Ridoc remarks.

You frown. "What is it with this guy that you guys dislike so much?"

They both start talking at once.

Overbearing.

Controlling.

Know-it-all.

Entitled.

Douchey.

"Alright, alright -- I got it," you hold your hands up. "So what, this one person you don't like will be there, big deal."

"Big deal?" Ridoc's voice pitches. "This guy was the one responsible for Halloween last year -- and you remember how long it took us to clean all that up."

Your mind flashed to the memory. Your two roomates didn't live in a house with their fraternity, in fact, they didn't even really have one. Nonetheless, the Halloween prank war between all the fraternities didn't quite go in their favor last year...

...let's just say, they spent more time in the bathroom than you did for the following month. And your shower smelt heavily of eggs and fish.

"Waa waa, so what." You shrugged, and they both looked at you incredulously. "Is it so hard to ignore him? You both know we should be there to support Vi," you try reasoning with them. Liam sighs, running a hand over his face before looking at you solemnly.

"This is her first fundraiser, and she really wants us there."

Ridoc huffs, scratching his post-nap hair again.

"You know Jesinia will be there..." you tease quietly, and Liam's eyebrows raise.

"I'm in," he says immediately, and Ridoc scoffs.

"Dude -- you won't even talk to her until you're two beers in," he says, and Liam rolls his eyes.

"So? It is a party, won't they have-"

"No dude -- it's a fundraiser," Ridoc says slowly. "They won't provide any alcohol, since they're hosting. Sorority rules." He shrugs, and Liam groans.

"Okay -- just hear me out," you say, walking toward the fridge. You open it silently, and gesture to the half-empty boxes of various alcoholic beverages inside. Ridoc shakes his head, and Liam seems to weigh his options.

You stare pleadingly at the pair before Ridoc speaks again.

"Fine. We'll go. Only on one condition. We get plastered first."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You stumbled out the front door, following after your friends as you headed for the sidewalk. Liam said something ahead of you, and Ridoc let out a rediculous laugh.

"W-what... are you guys talking about?" You grinned, and Liam looked over his shoulder at you.

Ridoc let out another chuckle, and the two of them glanced at eachother.

"Nothing, nothing." He mumbled, and you rolled your eyes.

"You know, if Rhi were here, she'd torture the answer out of the both of you." Rhiannon, your third roomate, who was conveniently out of town this weekend visiting her family.

"Good thing she isn't," Ridoc says, tossing an arm around your shoulders. "You're stuck with us this weekend."

You look sidelong at him, giggling at the pink staining his cheeks. He'd chugged three Nutrls before you left, and Liam was in fact already twp beers in -- he shouldn't have any problem talking to his crush.

"Damn! She really decked the place out!"

Ridoc's voice faded as the three of you stalked closer to the soririty house, the music blasting through the wide-open front door. People loitered in the front lawn, enjoying their filled solo-cups while enjoying the nice weather and setting sun.

"Hey, I thought you said no alcohol?"

Ridoc shrugged at Liam's question as you crossed the street, making your way up the stone steps to the front door.

"Maybe it's soda."

A girl to your right laughed loudly, tripping over her own feet as she worked to regain her balance -- using the arm of male next to her, of course. Liam turned sharply, chuckling at his friend's incinuation.

"I can guarantee you... it isn't water, in those cups."

Once crossing through the doorway, you look around in amazement. Purple streamers, multicolored balloons, and silver glitter adorned the high ceilings and grand staircase of the sorority house. It looked like Elle Woods just threw up on the damned place -- if Elle Woods didn't wear pink, anyway.

"Guys!" You heard the familiar shriek of excitement, and you turned to see Violet bounding over to the three of you. She threw her arms around you, and you embraced her right back.

"I'm so glad you could make it!" She looks to Liam, giving him a warm smile.

"Wouldn't miss it," Ridoc says sarcastically, and you elbow him in the ribs. Violet didn't seem to catch his tone.

"So -- what do ya think?" She asks, gesturing to the decorations and the people mingling under them. Liam nods, his eyes peering through the crowd surely in search of the brunette he fancied.

"It's... it's so cute, Vi. You did great," you muster, the effects of the single White Claw lightly clouding your brain. She looks to you again, her eyes wide.

"Can you tell what the theme is?" She asks, and you look around quickly. With all the random decorations, the mix of colors... you spot a blown up plastic snake in the corner, that looked similar to a pool floatie. Shake It Off blaring over the speakers didn't really help your mental state, either.

"Uhh... Taylor Swift?" You guessed. She laughed, tossing her head back.

"No! Silly," she mused, her words dripping with the effects of a drink or two herself. "It's Greek Mythology -- you know, because sororities are, greek?" She shrugs, and you paste on a knowing expression.

"Right! Right, I totally see it now." You didn't see it at all.

She pointed to the snake balloon. "See, this one is like that one goddess with the snake hair, and," she takes ahold of your arm, guiding you further into the foyer. You toss Ridoc an apologetic look, but he only chuckles at your predicament.

"...and I did purple for like, Atremis, ya know... oh, and the silver glitter for like, magic or whatever." You nod as though you understood her reasoning. Was she intoxicated when she came up with this plan?

She lead you into the kitchen, where you were greeted by more familiar faces. She eventually dropped her arm, rushing over to the back door as her boyfriend waltzed in, his posse behind him.

"Babe!" She squealed, running to him and pressing a kiss to his lips. You continued your conversation with Cat, another one of Violet's sorority sisters -- but your attention began to waver as each member of Xaden's frat followed through the door behind him.

Bodhi, of course, walked in and had girls flocking him immediately -- his polite smile and kind eyes were vaguely similar to his cousin's. Aaric, the freshman, followed after; he looked sky, but cute nonetheless.

And then... holy shit.

It may have been the most beautiful man you'd ever seen.

"Yeah, so anyways -- Vi wants me at the booth out back, I'll catch ya later?"

You shake your head, trying to refocus on Cat as she left the kitchen island.

"Yeah... I'll... see ya..."

Fuck.

His toned arms were sun-kissed beneath the thin material of his tank, the clean white of the material only enhancing the contrast between skin and clothing. His hair looked so soft, swooping to the side and revealing his deep brown eyes--

"Might want to close your mouth, Y/N; you'll catch a fly."

You glare over your shoulder, Ridoc's body approaching behind you. You heard his mocking tone before you saw him, walking over with two pink cups in his hands.

"I wasn't..." you start to protest, and he reaches around you to put one in your hand. You swish the liquid around, discerning what he'd just handed you. Water.

"Oh for the love of God -- do not tell me you were seriously checking out--"

You ushed back against him, craning your neck as you held the back of your hand to his lips.

"Shh!"

He leaned in, taking your hand in his as he moved your arm back down to your side. His lips tickled as he spoke softly against your ear, his voice low.

"...Dain, Aetos."

You huffed, lifting the cup to your lips as Ridoc moved behind you, opting to sit on a clear space of countertop as he looked to you quizzically. You took a large gulp, the refreshing feeling a welcome one as opposed to the burn of the alcohol you'd consumed earlier.

"So?" You shrugged, and Ridoc shook his head slowly. "So what if I was?"

He chuckled, pincing the bridge of his nose.

"Just know, I wish you all the luck, Y/N." He says, his tone resigned. You roll your eyes, walking over to stand between his knees. He stares down at you, raising a single eyebrow.

"I don't need, your luck, Ridoc," you say, and his thumb and forefinger lightly grip your chin.

"You don't need, that," he says the word as though its poisonous, glancing toward Dain again. Your eyes follow, watching as he greets a few girls on his way through.

You look back up at your dark-haired friend, your eyes catching on a few strands that fall across his forehead.

"You have no idea, what I need."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

It'd been a pathetic hour that you roamed the house, talking with friends as you searched for Liam. The sun was dipping below the horizon, casting a orangey glow throughout the mansion. You dodged person after person, scanning for a certain face you were sure you wouldn't forget.

Did you want to run into him? Oh, yes. But what would you even say?

The thought made your stomach churn.

A stranger to your right brushed past you, uttering a giggly apology as htey continued on their way. Many of the partygoers seemed... more than happy, at that. Where were these people getting the goods?

"In the back!" Violet's voice rang through the hallway, her sing-songy tone ushering people outside. "The booth is in the backyard -- only a dollar!" She called, her face coming into view as more people filed through the kitchen and out into the sun.

She grasped her arm when she found you, her eyes glazed. Her brow furrowed as she looked down at your cup, noticing the emptiness of it.

"You don't look like you're having enough fun," she comments, and you shrug.

"It's a great fundraiser, Vi," you assure her, and she chuckles.

"Wanna drink?"

Now it's your turn to frown in confusion.

"I thought you weren't allowed-"

"We're not," she cuts you off. "But Xaden's frat brought a bunch of coolers -- they're in the back," she shrugs, and your face falls. This entire time, you could've been enjoying yourself more, and didn't know it?

She pats your arm once, then rushes off, ushering more people to the backyard. You round the corner and find Liam in the study, his unmistakable blonde hair glinting with the setting sun. Beside him stood Jesinia, smiling politely at something he was saying.

You didn't want to intrude, but... the girl looked like she might be grateful for it.

"Where the Hell did you get that?" You asked, looking at the Coors Light bottle in Liam's hand. He looked to you, a flash of annoyance and... something else crossing over his face before he answered.

Jesinia beat him to the punch, pointing at the door through the kitchen toward the backyard.

"Xaden and his bros brought them in," he said with a chuckle, glancing down at the poor girl when she didn't laugh with him. You swore, his dorkiness could only go so far -- and this, this was proof.

"Right," you said slowly, glancing over your shoulder and doing a double take when you watched a familiar white tank top saunter through the open door. Liam laughed, lightly shoving your shoulder.

"Hmmm, I see she's taken a liking to Dain Aetos," he dawls, and you glare at him. Jesinia only shrugs, chuckling as you smile knowingly at her.

The three of you are interrupted as a strawberry blonde approaches, leaning into the doorframe as he stares directly at Jesinia.

"Hey, Jes -- play flip cup with me?" He asks, and her cheeks pinken at his request. Nonetheless, she gives Liam a polite nod before joining the new male, leaving the two of you in the study.

Liam tips his bottle back as he watches her walk away, the guy's hand resting on her lower back.

You glance up at him, and he only shakes his head lowly.

"Fucking Sawyer," he grumbles. "Maybe I don't like the guy much."

You place a comforting hand on his upper back, rubbing back in forth comfortingly. His back muscles flex beneath the thin fabric of his black tee, and he looses a long breath.

"Come onnnn; let's go get you a drink."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You'd managed to snag and finish two more drinks before Ridoc caught up with you again -- all the while, avoiding Dain.

"Make a move on your new little crush yet?" Ridoc taunts, and you smack his shoulder.

"No," you say assertively, and he grins down at you.

"She's being a chicken." Liam says, glancing around the full yard over the rim of his cup. You glower at him.

"I am not -- I just... would rather have better conditions to meet him for the first time." Your cheeks flush. A cropped graphic tee and jean shorts didn't exactly scream "fuck me, please"!

Ridoc snorts. "Like, what, in a wedding dress?"

Liam laughs, Ridoc following right along. You roll your eyes in annoyance.

"Why don't you guys leave me alone? Go figure out what those tables are for or something." Their eyes catch on the long white pop-up tables, adorned with a pie at every folding chair. Liam shrugs, tossing his can in a nearby bin before heading that way.

You thank God when Ridoc follows.

"Y/N!"

You hear Imogen's voice over the crowd, and your eyes search for her bright pink hair. When you find it, you start making your way toward her -- next to the kissing booth.

"Listen, Gen, I understand why, but, I'm straight."

She laughs, leaning against the wooden frame that Cat sits behind. She looks miserable, biting on the edge of her solo cup as she sits there.

"No no, not for me," Imogen assures, gesturing to Cat. "My friend here hasn't peed in two hours, andddd since I can't find the other girls, I was hoping maybe you could cover?"

Your brows shoot up, and Cat widens her eyes.

"Please, Y/N -- just for a minute, I really gotta go," she pleads. You look around the backyard, searching from person to person.

You try to ignore the way Dain's muscles flex when he tosses a beanbag.

"Why can't Sloane do it?" You point to the freshman, standing shyly near the entryway to the kitchen.

"Because freshman aren't allowed to run the booths," Imogen says sternly. The idea of sitting here, waiting for some gross guy to come up and pay for a kiss? Gross.

You glance to her again. "Why not Vi?"

Imogen snorts. "Really? You think Xaden Riorson is letting any other man put his mouth on her?"

You shrug in agreement. "Why not you, then?"

She levels a hard stare at you. "I've already done my time with fundraiser booths. No thanks."

You huff. "I'm not even in this sorority-"

"Pleeease," Cat begs, her eyes as round as saucers. "It's just a few minutes, and I've barely had anyone all night." She assures, and you groan in defeat.

"Ughhh, fine." She excitedly slips from behind the booth, and you shuffle to take her spot. She scurries toward the house, and Imogen slaps a hand on the wooden frame once.

"It'll be fine," she reassures. "I think Cat's only made like, five bucks all night."

You sigh, glancing out at the lively scene around you. You spot Ridoc in his red jacket, talking with a redhead near the pie table. Liam is near the cooler again, rummaging through for surely another beer.

"Are you open?"

Your gaze fixes on the male before you, and your breath catches in your throat.

You open your mouth to answer, but it just hangs open. No sound comes out.

"It's... one dollar right?" Dain asks, sitting on the short stool on the other side of the booth. You force your mouth closed -- don't want to catch a fly, right? -- and nod, swallowing hard.

Dain nods once, a light smile playing on his lips as he tears his gaze from yours and moves to take out his wallet. He rifles through it, his long fingers filing between receipts, cards...

Ugh, his hands.

"Shoot, well, I only have a five," he says, his gaze finding yours again. He pulls it free handing it to you. You take it, glancing at the money jar behind the counter to find only a couple of bucks.

"I-I don't have, change," you stutter, and he chuckles.

"Guess I'll just have to redeem all five then — your boyfriend isn’t mad that you’re doing this?”

Your brows knit, and fully furrow when Dain motions to Ridoc.

“He’s absolutely not my boyfriend.” You scoff.

Dain grins.

“Good.”

He leans in immediately, pressing his lips to yours. You don't have time to react as his mouth moves against yours, the kiss feeling like five minutes and only thirty seconds at the same time. When he pulls back, he smiles at you -- his teeth impossibly white.

You blush as he pushes a hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear.

"Four more to go."

You nod, a dorkish grin spreading across your face as he stands. He licks his bottom lip, waving to someone behind him as they call him over. He leans in one more time, speaking while staring you right in the eyes.

"But, we have all night."

With that, he grins and walks off, leaving you flustered and hot and ... everything, all at once. Your chest heaves, the weight of what just happened settling in.

You look across the yard, realizing everyone also just saw that happen.

But, no matter where you look, you only find one pair of deep brown eyes glaring back at you.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Pie time!"

Violet annouces with a clap of her hands, and the crowd gathers before the tables as men from Xaden's frat take their seats.

"I mean, I'm glad you like someone but... him?" Ridoc chastizes, shaking his head as the two of you join the herd.

You scoff. "Ridoc, what is this obsession over Dain Aetos? I mean, really." You ask, and he takes a long swig from his can.

"The guy is just an ass, and thinks he's better than everyone. At everything."

"One more spot!" Xaden calls, motioning to the chair before him. "Somebody come claim it! Only five bucks!"

"And that bothers you...?" You continue, watching as Ridoc's face shifts into a mask of cool calm.

"It bothers me because he isn't better. At anything." He hands you his canister, breaking through the crowd as he makes way for the table. He holds up a $5 bill.

"Ridoc! What are you-"

"I'll take it," he annouces, reveling in a the cheers sounding around him. You shake your head, watching as Xaden takes his cash and then ties his hands behind his back. He smiles cheekily at you, and the male sitting next to him follows his line of sight.

That's when Dain Aetos' eyes meet yours once more.

"3...2...1... go!"

The thoughts that filled your mind were... unholy.

Your eyes were glued to Dain, watching as his face devoured the pie before him. His tongue, stained by the red berries inside, swooped out and into the pie as he feasted on it, licking around the indention he'd made with his teeth.

Gods, his lips had tasted good. Better yet, he still had four more this evening to go.

In your hazy, lust-stricken gaze, you found yourself almost distracted, your eyes catching on the dark head of hair next to the handsome male.

Your mouth watered more, despite your inner protests.

Ridoc was your friend, one of the best at that -- however, your mind began to race watching him nise-deep in the pie tin. The obscene sounds of slurping and sucking didn't help either.

Mental images raced through your head, each one sending more and more flurries through your lower stomach.

Ridoc's lips on yours.

The feeling of Dain's hands on your body while you kissed.

Ridoc over top of you, kissing over your neck and chest.

Dain pulling down your soaking panties.

Ridoc sliding his rough fingers into your wet cunt.

Dain's tongue on your clit as he ate you out.

Ridoc's forearm across your waist, holding you down as you cried out for him-

"Y/N!"

You snapped out of your daze, realizing how far you'd gone into it. Your best friend appeared before you, his shit-eating grin telling you all you needed to know.

"I won, Y/N! I told ya I could," he smirks, his mouth stained a deep pink. You chuckle, watchign as he wiped his lips across the sleeve of his sweatshirt.

"Proud of you," you tease, and he slings an arm over your shoulders. His scent of freshwater and sage wafted in -- you'd never pondered how good he smelled.

"Let's get you another drink, to celebrate."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

You were happy to blame the alcohol for the situation you were in.

Somehow, Violet had convinced you to join the large group game called Medusa -- one you'd never played before. However, all the singles were urged to play and had to pay $1 for what Violet was selling as "the luckiest 10 rounds of your life".

You weren't too sure of that.

The game was simple; every one closed their eyes, and when Violet shouted Medusa, you opened them and looked at another person in the circle. If you locked eyes, you had to kiss -- if the person was not looking at you and instead looking at someone else, you simply waited for the next round.

"Okay everyone, eyes closed!"

Violet of course, wouldn't be participating.

"Medusa!"

You warily opened your eyes, your gaze locking on Imogen. She was looking elsewhere, and somehow, no one locked eyes this round.

"Ooh, okay," Violet mused. "9 rounds left. Eyes closed!"

You obeyed, waiting for her call. Ridoc squirmed beside you, and you huffed in irritation.

Irritation for his movements, and potentially because a certain third year was not participating also.

"Medusa!"

You'd gone three more rounds after that, and by round five someone finally made eye contact with another person. In round eight, Cat and Aaric looked at eachother before he leaned in, pressing his lips to her quickly.

"One I didn't have to pay you for," he smirked, and Cat shoved his shoulder.

"Hush it, freshman."

The next round, your eyes found Liam -- he of course, was not looking at you. You followed his line of sight, straight to Jesinia of course.

But, she was looking at Sawyer.

And he, was looking at her.

The redhead smiled, leaning in and kissing the brunette as though he'd done so a million times. Liam's gaze grew cold, his brows furrowing as he gripped his beer tighter. You wished you could do something, make him feel better some how-

"Eyes closed! Last round!"

You closed your eyes, Ridoc sucking in a breath as he took in his friend's angered expression.

"Medusa!"

You felt Ridoc's eyes on you, burning into the side of your head -- however, your gaze was locked squarely on Liam.

And his, hard and vengeful, was looking right back at you.

Violet gasped, but Liam didn't say a word. In fact, he made a show of standing and walking over to you, not even daring to look sidelong at his crush.

When he was within mere inches of your face, he kneeled, pressing his torso between your parted thighs as you sat helplessly on the plastic folding chair.

"Liam, you don't have to-"

His lips crush yours in an instant, his mouth moving furiously with yours. The taste of his drink felt good on your mouth, even better when he slid his tongue past the seam of your lips. You nearly groaned when his hands found your cheeks, cupping your face with his caring touch so at odds with the way he was practically devouring you-

"Alright, alright. Damn."

Liam pulled away, his darkened blue irises peering up at you from the floor. You grinned, enjoying the view of his handsome face as well as the lingering feel of his mouth on yours. He chuckled, his hands falling from their position as Ridoc continued his brooding beside you.

"He didn't have to," Violet teased. "But, I think he wanted to." She giggled.

Yeah, you'd definately be blaming the alcohol tonight.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

10:07.

How was it already 10 o'clock at night?

You tipped back your cup, welcoming the water into your system once more. You were listening to Sloane, another freshman, drone on about her classes this semester as you worked to regain some sort of control over your body and mind.

The reminders of the last game you'd played though -- you couldn't surpress those.

It was wrong, thinking of your long time friend and roomate in such a way. Never had you been attracted to that blonde head before, but... tonight...

Shit.

"Hey, I'm gonna go grab another box of the Coors!"

Your head snapped in the direction of the voice, watching as the third year made his way toward the front door. You felt bad, abandoning Sloane this way, however... you wanted to follow him. You wanted to, but didn't at the same time.

You cut the blonde freshman off with a quick, drunken hug.

"Hey, I'll be right back, I'm so sorry-"

She shook her head, smiling at you.

"Go! Go, I'll catch up with you later."

You gave her a hazy smile before walking (as straight and fast as possible) up to and out of the front door, your eyes scanning the front lawn for that white tank.

Sure enough, there he was -- braced against the side of a huge black truck, reaching into the bed in search of more alcohol.

Bingo.

You walked over, coughing once and working to mask your face in cool indifference.

"Use some help?"

He turned at the sound of your voice, a smile instantly curling his lips.

"From a pretty girl like you?" He hopped off the back, abandoning the beer on the grass as he looked to you. "Anytime."

Your cheeks flushed at his words, and he leaned against the side of the Ram.

"Do you have more you need me to-"

"Nah," he said, inching closer to you. His arms crossed over his chest, and you stared up into his deep brown eyes.

"I'd rather just take a minute and... talk,"

You arched a brow, offering to answer whatever he wanted to inquire about. It felt so natural, your conversation coming so easy with him -- that was, until Bodhi appeared in the front door and called to him.

"Dain! Beer? C'mon man," he shouted, and Dain waved him off.

"Guess I should probably take this back inside," he chuckled, leaning to reach for the heavy box. You absentmindedly reached for his arm, your hand bracing against his bicep.

He looked up, your pleading eyes on his face.

"Wait," you said, and he straightened. A small smirk tugged the corner of his lips up, and he stepped closer to you. So close, your chests touched.

"Hm?" He asked, his right hand slowly finding its way to your waist.

"I... uh," you stuttered. "You have four more left to-"

He pulled your waist to his, cutting you off with a kiss to your lips. Your breath hitched, drinking in every inch of his toned body pressed against yours. Both hands now rested on your hips, and your arms tangled around his neck to pull his mouth to yours. He broke away only for a moment, smiling down at you.

"Three."

He kissed you again, harder this time. His lips slid across yours, the sweet taste of whiskey rolling off his mouth and onto yours.

"Two."

You whimpered, parting your lips as his tongue dove into your mouth. He squeezed the exposed skin of your waist, groaning into your mouth as his hardening length made its presence known as it pressed against you.

"One."

He whispered the last word, not going in for more this time. You sighed, looking up at him.

"C'mon," you pleaded. "You still have one left-"

"I'm saving it," he said, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek. "I want to use it later."

He said it with such sincerity, the soft gaze sweeping over your face that you wished it were later already.

Oh God...

Your pussy clenched at the thought.

"I don't know how we've never met before," he started, shaking his head at you. "You're... not like, anyone I know."

You blushed again, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth.

"Well, I am a sophomore-"

His hands were off of your hips, sliding slowly down as his face fell.

"Wait -- what?"

"Your brow furrowed in confusion.

"What?" You asked. "Is that, an issue?"

He huffed a short sarcastic laugh.

"Uh, yeah," he said, staring at you as he backed up a step. "I'm... I mean, I'm the head of my class, and with the frat -- you know we're not allowed to get involved with girls outside our year."

You rolled your eyes.

"That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard."

He picked up the box, heaving it onto his shoulder.

"Maybe, but it's the rules."

He started toward the house, and you followed behind -- your steps shaky with the aftereffects of the alcohol. Your head swam, thinking of any way that this situation could be worked around.

"Then why do Xaden and Violet get to be together?"

He sighed, slowing to walk beside you again.

"Because, he's the head of our frat. He doesn't have to follow the rules." He shrugged. "And, quite frankly, as his second in command, I'm more in charge of keeping freshman and sophomores in line anyways."

Your brow furrowed as you approached the front door.

"If you're the VP, why do you have to-"

"Because it's the rules, Y/N."

He walked inside, the light from the mansion bending around his tall frame. Anger welled inside of you -- what a stupid regulation they had. What did it matter to anyone that he was involved with someone only a year younger?

No matter the frustration, your heart still skipped a beat as you though of his touch once more.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

Your mind was a blur as you waded through the crowd in search of your roomates. You thought you spotted Liam, but realized it likely wasn't him. He was probably off brooding somewhere, you were sure. After all, you had passed Jesinia and Sawyer in the study, their mouths in a tango.

God, he was probably pissed.

Finally, Ridoc's familiar red jacket came into view across the yard as he stood talking with a few guys before a bonfire. You reached a hand up, preparing to wave him over.

"Ridoc! Hey-"

Your call was cut off by a gasp. Cold, fermented liquid doused the front of your shirt -- and a freshman girl stood before you in shock.

"Oh my God!" She squeaked. "I'm so sorry, I-"

You held up a hand, your lips pressed into a tight line.

"It's fine." You said, your words short and temper even shorter. Partygoers around you stopped to gawk, staring straight at your chest as the pink liquid soaked through the white fabric. You turned on your heel, embarassment creeping its way up your neck and across your cheeks as you stomped toward the house once more.

You'd ignored the sound of your name behind you, not even stopping to look as you angrily bounded up the stairs and made way for the upstairs bathroom.

The exhaustion of the night weighed heavily on you, and you really just felt like going home at this point -- but door after door, you grew increasingly frustrated as the bathroom was not where you remembered it to be from last time.

You groaned, angry tears pricking your eyes as a couple of seniors walked out of an empty bedroom, glancing pitifully at the front of your favorite tee. You turned around in frustration, the never-ending hallway not yeilding any sort of washroom.

Just then, an iron-grip closed around your arm and yanked you into the vacant bedroom.

* ✧･ﾟ: *

"Here," Ridoc said kindly, pulling you through the door and guiding you to sit on the bed. You obeyed, sitting on the plush mattress and glancing around the rather bare sleeping quarters. He moved before you, unzipping his jacket.

"How did you know this was vancant?" You asked, and he slid the material over his shoulders. His tan skin poked out beneath his own gray t-shirt, the arm holes straining around his biceps.

You tried not to stare.

He chuckled, his fingers hooking under the hem.

"Let's just say... I've been in here before," he winked, lifting his arms over his head and taking his shirt with them.

Holy fuck.

His abs flexed, the tattoos along his left side swirling over his hardened muscle. He sighed as he pulled the shirt completely off, balling it in his hand and extending it to you.

"Here," he said softly, his expression full of concern and ... something else. You silently took it from him, and he breathed deep before settling on his knees between your legs.

Just like Liam had.

No, you scolded yourself. Stop that.

You sat silently, staring down at the floor as he inched closer. His fingers reached for the edge of your own ruined shirt, his eyes asking permission before you nodded.

Yes. Please.

He slowly lifted your shirt, gently pulling it over your head as he sucked in a harsh breath. Goosebumps erupted over your skin, the cool night air coming in from the open window mixed with the way his eyes roved over your exposed top.

Your nipples hardened beneath your lacy bra.

His face inched closer to yours, his right hand pushing your hair behind your ear.

"Can I kiss you right now?"

His question came out strained, his voice gravelly as though he was holding back. Your eyes met his, ablaze with a fiery lust you'd never quite seen before.

You answered wordlessly again, your bottom lip pulling between your teeth as you nodded your reply.

Yes.

He pressed his lips against yours, the touch so gentle and at odds with his usually overecstatic, joyous attitude.

Neither of you moved, his lips stayed on yours and yours stayed on his. You reveled in the feeling, replaying every time you'd thought about this very inappropriate, very sinful thing.

Every time he left the bathroom in nothing but a towel.

Every time he came home late, spending the evening with yet another female.

Every time he cooked breakfast shirtless.

Your panties grew wetter.

He breathed in deep, pressing up onto his knees to kiss you deeper. You leaned back slightly as his hands found the small of your back, pulling you into him as he finally continued the kiss. His soft lips glided on top of yours, the remaining taste of the sweet pie on his mouth a warm welcome.

Just when he swiped his tongue over your lower lip, asking for entrance did you pull back. Your eyes were wild when they met his.

"Ridoc... we can't, this... this is so wrong."

A look of defeat flashed in his eyes before being quickly replaced with something else. His hands caressed your skin, rubbing small circles on your back as he hovered closely to you.

"It doesn't feel wrong to me," he admits, his voice low.

You sigh, your hands draped over his shoulders.

"Tomorrow will be one Hell of a morning-after," you suggest, and he grins.

"I don't care. I'd take a million hellish morning-after's just to do this."

When his lips found yours again, it wasn't soft. It wasn't nice.

It was hungry.

Your hands tangled in his hair, and he groaned when you tugged lightly on it. Your hips moved along the edge of the bed, the growing ache in your lower belly near unbearable as his mouth continued to assault yours.

He seemed to take the hint, one hand moving from your back to press against the fabric of your jean shorts. He rubbed back and forth, his strong fingers pressing into your most sensitive spot.

You didn't care that the window was open. You didn't care that the door was unlocked. You moaned loud, the feeling sending what felt like champagne bubbles right up to your brain.

"Ridoc," you panted, grinding your hips into his touch. "More."

That's all it took.

He pushed you back onto the bed, laying you flat across the plush duvet as he rose, unbuttoning his jeans and kicking them off along with his shoes. He worked on you next, unzipping your shorts and then hooking his fingers through your beltloops, removing the garment in less than a minute.

"Please," you begged, and he chuckled darkly at you.

"Don't beg," he teased, settling on his knees once more. His breath was warm against your thighs, but his touch was cold as he placed a small kiss to the inside of your left one. "Not yet."

Your mind flashed back to the pie contest, his face smeared with the berry filling, the sounds he made as he ate--

None of that, compared to this.

"Oh my God," you squeaked, your hand finding a fistful of his hair as he licked up your folds. His tongue worked, swirling mercilessly through your folds as you clenched around nothing. You sucked in breath after breath, your head falling back in pleasure as he continued eating you out. The way his lips roved and sucked, his nose nudging your clit with the movement; fuck, it was electrifying.

Your gaze lifted as you heard the doorknob turning, a jolt of fear running through you. Ridoc only paused a moment, looking over his shoulder as the door opened slightly. Your eyes met the wide blue ones you were so familiar with, and his jaw dropped.

"What the fuck-" he muttered, unable to tear his gaze away from your body. He unashamedly looked you over, not moving into or out of the room.

"Liam, please-"

You were cut off with a whine as Ridoc shoved his forefinger and middle inside of you, your face contorting in pleasure. He smirked, looking at his friend once more.

"Ahhh, come on man -- you know you don't want to go back downstairs."

Liam watched, looking almost horrified as Ridoc continued fingering you. The small squeaks coming from you must have propelled him inside, as he quickly crossed the entrance and shut the door. He sat down his glass on the nightstand, his eyes taking in the scene before him.

Ridoc set a punishing pace, curling his fingers inside of you every time he pulled out and re-inserted them.

"Oh God," you whined, and Liam quietly walked around the other side of the bed. He sat behind you, awkwardly for a moment, just watching. Your fingers found your nipples, pinching hard as you toyed with your boobs in front of the two men.

"Seems like you have a little problem," Ridoc taunted, and you arched off the bed a bit. Your gaze foudn Liam sitting behind you, upside down, yes, but you didn't miss the tent in his pants.

No going back now.

"Liam," you whined, feeling your impending orgasm nearing its peak. "I want to cum."

He sucked in a short breath, leaning over on the bed and pressing his lips to yours once. You moaned into the kiss, queaking as his large hands found your breasts and squeezed.

His voice was a mere growl as it found your ear.

“Let me help you with that.”

"Oh fuck!" You chanted, the feeling of Ridoc fingering you and now lapping at your clit almost too much -- especially with the way Liam pinched and rolled his thumbs over your hardened peaks.

"Fuck, fuck, I'm cumming-"

You unleashed your orgasm with a sigh, your quivering hole clenching around Ridoc's digits over, and over, and over again. Your abdominal muscles flexed and unflexed, the feeling of Liam's hands cupping your boobs made you want more.

Before you could think too long about it, Liam was sliding off the bed behind you, his gentle hands guiding you to lie flat on your back. You did as such, submitting to whatever he gave you.

It turns out, he wanted something from you.

Your head hung over the edge of the bed, and your gaze found the floor. Liam hovered over you, the distinct sound of his jeans zipper cut through the otherwise quiet room before his fingers gripped your chin.

He tapped his hard cock on your lips once, twice -- groaning when you opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out flat. His fingers pumped his dick above you, before guiding it into your wide mouth.

Fuck.

You garbled around his thick length, the sheer size of it forcing your throat to open wide. He shoved all the way in, his pelvis meeting your nose before he pulled out, and pushed back in, slowly fucking your mouth.

"So fucking good baby,"

You blushed at the praise, your head still swimming with the effects of the alcohol you'd consumed. In the back, you could hear Ridoc's soft praises as he fisted his own cock at the sight.

"So pretty, taking dick down your throat."

Your pussy clenched at his words.

Liam continued thrusting, only slowing when his dick began to lurch. He was close, and you could feel it.

"Fuck -- oh fuck," he chanted, ramming his cock down your throat before halting. He breathed heavily as cum sprayed your throat, his release bittersweet as you swallowed it.

"Mmm yes... swallow all of it."

You do as your told, gulping down the last remnants of his seed before he yanks his cock from you. Gasping for air, your mind swims. Lifting your head up and regaining focus is a monumental task -- and before long, Ridoc is trading places with his roomate.

"Hands and knees, gorgeous."

His rough tone sends a shiver down your spine, but you obey. You lean forward, ass up and pussy spread to Ridoc behind you. Liam appeared before you, leaning onto the bed once more before fisting your hair in his hand. You whimpered, and felt the unmistakable tap of Ridoc's length on your ass cheek.

"Gonna take all of me? Like the good girl you are?"

All you could do was nod, unable to look back at him. Liams fingers toyed with your breasts, his other hand still gripping your hair tight. Your mouth fell open as Ridoc pushed in, inch by agonizing inch, until he was seated at the hilt.

"OH-"

You cried out when he retracted, slamming back into you at full force.

"Fuck, babe -- perfect pussy," he praised, his rough pace already causing a weakness in your knees. Liam licked his lips, his fingers trailing lower toward your aching clit.

"Please -- oh fuck, yes Ridoc," you chanted, lurching forward with every sharp drive he gave you. Your eyes rolled back as Liam found your clit, rubbing slow circles around it.

"What... the Hell... is going on here?"

Your eyes shot open at the tone, your cheeks immediately pinkening in shame. Ridoc nor Liam let up, still rubbing and thrusting into you as though Dain Aetos wasn't standing in the doorway.

"D-Dain.... oh fuck," you groaned before meeting his gaze. His brows narrowed as he took in the scene, though he didn't leave the doorway. "P-please, it's not what it-"

"What it, what, looks like?" He scoffs incredulously. "Because to me, it looks like you're fucking your non-boyfriend, or, boyfriends? Maybe?" He shakes his head, his eyes not so subtly tracing over your form.

Your mouth twists as Ridoc hits a particularly sensitive spot.

"Correction," he says, finally adressing the junior. "We, are fucking, her." He chuckles. "And, no, we're not her boyfriends."

Dain shakes his head again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Look, I don't give a fuck what you all are. But, I swear to God, everyone can fucking hear you through that window-" he gestures to the open window, moonlight pouring in.

Liam pinches your clit, and you squeal.

"See?" He throws his hands up. "Everyone can fucking hear you."

"Why don't you come shut her up then?" Liam asks, taking on a tone you'd never heard before.

"Yeahhh," Ridoc agrees, his fingers gripping the meat of your ass. "You're the VP here -- teach her a lesson."

Dain sighs, stepping into the room and locking the door behind him.

"I fail to see how this is a good idea," he hesitates, but nonetheless stalks closer to the bed. You peer up at him, your rounded glassy eyes only sending a rush of blood straight to his cock.

"P-please, Dain," you beg, biting your lower lip. "You still... oh," you pause, feeling Liam's fingers rub your clit. "Y-you still have... one more..."

"Oh, I'm well aware." He grumbles, his fingers wrapping around the base of your throat as he squats before you. At eye level, he's even more devastating. He leans in, kissing your lips timidly before backing away, studying you with uncertainty.

"Come onnn," Ridoc pants, egging him on. "I know you want to -- you've been undressing her with your eyes all night."

Dain sighs, his tongue running along his bottom lip before he rises. He unbuckles his belt, letting it fall to the floor before sliding down his jeans. His cock springs free, slapping against his pelvis. He takes it in his hand, rubbing his fingers up and down the length.

"There you go -- now, show her how to be quiet." Liam urges.

Dain steps forward, his darkened eyes meeting yours as he guides his cock to your awaiting mouth. He slides it past your lips, shuddering when you swirl your tongue around the tip.

"Shit," he groans, his hand finding your jaw as he pushes in further. You gag as he stuffs your mouth, reveling in the way he throws his head back in pleasure.

He syncs with Ridoc, his cock pushing down your throat with every thrust Ridoc drives into you. You're moaning, the sound strangled around Dain's dick as he continues fucking your mouth, slow and deliberate.

"Shit, I'm fucking close-"

Ridoc drives in harder, his cock rubbing your g-spot before he bursts inside of you. His warm seed paints your walls white, pushed further inside as he delivers a last few, languid strokes. You clench around him as you find your own release, the fire in your lower abdomen burning hotter than it did the first time you came.

Liam sighs beside you, abandoning your pussy as he makes to rise off the bed. You groan at the sudden loss of Ridoc inside of you and Liam's fingers on your clit, the primary focus now being on Dain and his jerking cock. He growls as he fucks your face faster, his eyes studying your arched back and rounded ass as he drives himself in.

"Fuck sweetheart," he grumbles, his hand cupping your chin as he fucks your face with fervor. "This is what happens when you don't follow the rules, gonna get me in trouble-"

He pull shis cock from you, his hand pumping it before your face as you realize his impending release. You look up at him innocently, laying your tongue out flat for him. He moans, loud and clear, before semen shoots from the head of his cock, painting your face white with each ejaculation.

He breathes heavy, working to come down from his high while the other two quietly dress and make to leave the room. You continue to stare, flashing him an unabashed, drunken grin.

"Maybe I'll break the rules more often, then."

* ✧･ﾟ: *

[archangeldyke-all]

Hi Angel!! I first wanted to say that I love all your Sevika stories, they never fail to make my days better!

So, I've recently been thinking about little fucker and the twins a lot ((bc I found out I'm gonna be an aunt for twins :DD and it made me wonder how did Sev and Reader react to the news, like.. "what. WERE HAVING TWINS??? HOW." something like this lmao.

Not sure if you've already written something like this, but I've practically read all of your masterlists lmao. If you did feel free to skip cuz I have really bad short term memory ;))

oh my god that's so exciting!!! congrats auntie!!! i think i wrote a few little sentences about this in one of the first twins posts, but lets make it a full fledged story heheeh <3

(also as always with these stories, don't think too much about how the pregnancy happened. reader is trans, or has a magical strap, or it's just yuri magic. you choose hehe)

men and minors dni

for the first few days after sevika's pregnancy test coming back positive, you're both living in denial.

"how am i pregnant? i thought this was menopause! i thought i was done with all this shit!" sevika whines.

you giggle a little hysterically, then pull her into your arms. "i have no fuckin' idea." you say, blinking in shock. "holy shit. i actually knocked you up."

sevika giggles just as crazily in your hold. "congrats."

"i've been trying to get revenge on you for little fucker since you first knocked me up with her!" you laugh. sevika snorts and smacks your shoulder.

"don't say revenge. oh fuck, this is gonna miserable, isn't it?" sevika whines. you kiss her sweetly.

"it's the most amazing thing that's ever happened!"

"you're such a shit. you're just happy it isn't you this time around."

"damn right i am!" you laugh. sevika smiles at you, and then her face falls. you coo and wrap her up in another hug. "it's gonna be alright sevi-bear. i'm gonna be with you every step of the way."

"no, it's not that." sevika whimpers as she nuzzles against your shoulder. "i'm just-- i'm so happy. we're gonna have another one, baby, holy shit."

you grin and pull sevika in for a kiss.

her reaction isn't quite as happy when you get to your doctor's office, though.

"o-oh!" the ultrasound tech gasps.

"good 'oh?'" sevika worries, sitting up a bit from her spot on the paper covered exam table.

"you're having twins, mommies! congratulations!" the tech gasps, grinning up at you and sevika.

you blink.

the tech giggles with glee and turns back to her monitor, clearly handling the news better than you are. you blink again, then look down at sevika.

she's glaring at you like she's going to murder you.

it's only now that the tech's words hit you. and for some reason, you burst into laughter.

"t-twins?!" you cackle. "like, two of 'em?! how-- how the hell did we do that!?" you ask.

the tech blinks up at you in surprise, opens her mouth to speak, but you don't hear her answer. you're too busy grinning down at your wife.

"i'm gonna kill you." sevika finally whispers. you burst into another round of laughs.

"alright. just wait 'til after the pregnancy, think you might want me around these next few months, mama." you tease.

sevika's glare is deadly, but you can't find it in you to stop laughing. holy shit. two more little babies running around your house. if they're anything like their sister, they'll look exactly like sevika. tears well up in your eyes as you gaze lovingly down at your angry wife, imagining two pairs of grumpy baby eyes glaring up at you while you try to change their diapers.

"are you crying?!" sevika squawks. "why the hell are you crying, i should be the one crying!"

"you can cry too, baby!" you giggle, a surge of love taking over your body. before you know what's happening, you're smacking the tech's hand away from your wife's belly and straddling her waist, peppering her face with an endless barrage of kisses. "oh, holy shit, baby, we're gettin' two more of 'em!"

sevika's glare lessens a bit, a small smile ticking up at the corner of her mouth. you can see her softening to the idea; two more babies for you to love; but before a full smile can take over her face she forces herself back into a frown. "we can barely afford the kid we've got." she huffs.

you snort. "that's the beauty of hand-me-downs, sev. plus, silco gave you a big raise when we had the little fucker, what makes you think he'll hold back now that it's your turn?"

"we live in a two bedroom home!"

"we can move!"

"while i'm pregnant with twins?!"

"i'll start looking for a new place the second we get home."

sevika finally smiles, rolling her eyes and giggles a bit. "i can't believe you." she whispers. you grin.

"you're the love of my fucking life. i can't believe you."

the door clicks shut, and you both look up from your embrace to find that the tech has snuck out to give you some privacy.

and, finally, sevika bursts into laughter along with you.

taglist!!

@sevikas-baby @ghostscandys @sevikasllver @runawaybaby3 @lesbones

@chezze-its @lez-zuha @vikashoneybee @shanesevikasfuckdoll @imheadintothemountains

@nanajustnana-a @helaenabugmom

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner

@kissyslut @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther

@lavenderbabu @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @my-taintedheart

@glass-apothecary @macaroni676 @artinvain @k3n-dyll @sevsdollette

@ellieslob @xayn-xd @keikuahh @maneskinwh0re @raphaellearp

@iamastar @sevikitty @mascdom @nhaaauyen @annesunshiner

@mirconreadzztuff22 @veoomvroom @lushh-s3vik4s @katyawooga @lesbodietcoke

@strawberrykidneystone @vkumi @fict1onallyobsessed @dvrkhcld @sweetybuzz25

@sluttysierraaa @snake-in-a-flower-crown @ruiwonderz @littlemisszaunite @biblicalcrybaby

@blackgaladriel @nightlyconfusion @dancingqu33n17 @losernb @p1nkearth

[jave-harness]

Listen. Orteil. (imagine me sitting down like a youth pastor here) I don't normally disagree with you. I am a die-hard Cookie Clicker fan. I played NeverEnding Legacy to the fullest in spring of 2024. I got a couple thousand clicks into Nested once. But please for the love of gog keep that idea far far far far FAR away from Spore.

Let's consider EA's track record. Our closest example, Spore itself, was a cash grab. Or rather, turned into a cash grab. I do believe at one point it was an idea that had some merit (even if such is naivety). It was definitely good at one point.

But they took the vision that was had for Spore, and ruined it. And I can practically 100% guarantee that they would've done that for whatever idea you have for having five different fucking games for one continuous story.

Not to mention, who knows where which game is released. They probably wouldn't allow porting saves across multiple devices or services. Say they released the games on CD from, uhh, 2008-2011. 2013 if I'm being generous. Porting that to other game services like Steam or Origin (or the modern EA App) would've been absolutely disastrous. Linking your EA account to the Steam port is already the personal hell of the average Spore enjoyer. I don't know about the EA App, though, since I've only ever used the Steam port. Nevertheless...

I assume you say this because you wanted to skip the tribal stage specifically. Don't worry. Everybody has that feeling. But I would say allowing the player to skip any stage removes the vital linearity of the full game. You can't just go from being a creature to being the main designer of multiple cities, including the military leader of all of them as well. The tribal stage acts as a valley to understand the click-to-task, arrange buildings, war prep, and gift giving mechanics of the civilization stage while also being fun on its own (IMHO).

My personal proposition is to give up on all other stages entirely and just give us a fucking space game. The space stage takes up like 90% of the gameplay and is (")objectively(") better than all of them because it gives actual character to the creatures (which gives potential to be expanded on in Galactic Adventures and I would daresay widens the audience a little because when I was like 7 and playing Spore I loved being mean to the other empires). Plus, if they just focused on the space stage (what the game was actually about), the game just would've been better because they would've had more time and budget to work on something people might actually like.

Anyway. Crazy ramble over. Apologies. I just get so passionate about this subjects. Do not come near my Spore-kitten again.

Spore shouldn't have been 1 game with 5 different gameplay segments it should've been 5 separate games that each let you load your save from the previous one.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: february 2025

I can't believe that with all the bullshit nonsense of this year I've managed to read ten book a month for two months in a row. it's not on purpose but it's crazy that it's happened twice!

what have I been reading?

The Art of Frugal Hedonism: A Guide to Spending Less While Enjoying Everything More (Annie Raser-Rowland w/ Adam Grubb, 2017; audiobook read by Alice Ansara, 2024) - this was my first audiobook, and it was a doozy. the short version is that this book sucked and made me so, so mad. I really hoped to have my scathing haterade-fueled review up on patreon by now so that I could link it, but that hasn't panned out because I just have too much to say about these out of touch cunts offering the world's least qualified financial advice. "just take a leisurely twelve hour hike to a train station instead of going on vacation" kill yourself!!!

The Age of Magical Overthinking: Notes on Modern Irrationality (Amanda Montell, 2024) - I quite liked Montell's previous book, Cultish, but unfortunately I fear Magical Overthinking was a bit of a flop for me. I can't help but feel that the ideal target demographic is extremely anxious women in their teens and early 20s who need a compassionate explanation of why they should spend less time on Twitter and TikTok, and I'm afraid that shrimply isn't me.

The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World (Robin Wall Kimmerer, 2024; audiobook read by the author) - this was, unintentionally, a lovely little counterpoint to Frugal Hedonism. where Raser-Rowland and Grubb focus deeply on individual consumption habits and have a bad penchant of commodifying human interaction, Potawatomi botanist Kimmerer emphasizes the need for structural environmental change that can come by embracing Indigenous models of viewing the earth and its resources as members of crucial members of the family deserving of respect. a thoughtful and lovely balm to the bullshit!

My Year of Rest and Relaxation (Ottessa Moshfegh, 2018) - a book about the original queen of giving us nothing, as our protagonist goes to increasingly drastic lengths to spend as much time as possible asleep and disengaged from anything more complicated than acquiring more prescription pills. what can I say? I love books about miserable rich white women rotting in their own self-absorption.

Don't Want You Like a Best Friend (Emma R. Alban, 2024) - this was my patreonites' pick for my romance novel of the month, and I'll admit I went in nervous - historical romance novels are often not my thing, and the Taylor Swift lyric for the title was a red flag. but you know what? this was a romp. I was entertained. dare I say I was even charmed. sure, it falls into the common historical queer romance pitfall of emphasizing the vague threat of period-typical homophobia while assuring us that every important character just so happens to be startlingly cool with homosexuality, but whatever - I didn't come here to see these girls get hatecrimed by their own parents, alright? I wasn't planning to read the sequel, but it turns out it's a VERY direct follow up where the girls from this book hatch an INSANE plan to (SPOILER ALERT) get their male cousins to fall in gay love so that they can lavender marry each other's cousins and live happily ever after. INSANE! I love it here.

Dawn (Octavia E. Butler, 1987) - on the one hand, I'm a little heartbroken. this marks the beginning of the last of Butler's series that I haven't read; after Adulthood Rites and Imago, I'll have read everything she published in her too-short life, with no new works to look forward to ever again. but on the other hand: MAN, am I glad I saved this one for last. this book has it all: humanity's near-extinction. aliens. psychic tentacle threesomes. maybe the biggest L that any of Butler's heroines ever took. it's wild out here! cannot wait to see where we're going with this.

Iron Widow (Xiran Jay Zhao, 2021) - this was a reread to prep for the sequel, Heavenly Tyrant, which came out in December, and MAN am I glad I decided to check back in with the first book. I really thought I remembered the broad strokes of the plot well enough, but I really did not remember just how blood-spittingly bugfuck viscous Zetian and her two boyfriends are. of the three people in this throuple, the nicest one is the guy who murdered his brothers and dad in cold blood. and I think that's awesome! cannot wait to see what these absolute freaks are up to now, and my hold cannot come into the library quickly enough.

Pardon My Frenchie (Farrah Rochon, 2024) - okay. listen. on paper I shouldn't like this book. the male love interest is boring at best and a full-blown shithead at worst. the biggest driver of the plot is the love interests' dogs going crazy levels of viral. the sex is minimal and nothing to write home about. and yet. AND YET. our female lead, Ashanti, is simply so charming and earnest and plucky that I adored her immediately. girl lost both her parents on the same day, had to drop out of veterinary school to raise her twin younger sisters, and is struggling to run the world's most plush doggy day care AND run a successful side business selling homemade dog biscuits. truly I just want anything to go right for her, ever. she's never even been eaten out prior to this book, and that makes me so, SO sad for her. I may not like her boyfriend, but at least he'll get her off, and that counts for something. overall, it's Ashanti's storyline about learning how to prioritize what's important to her and let some obligations go instead of clinging madly to everything that really got me through and won me over. plus, this book bypassed by usual kneejerk dislike of obnoxiously cutesy plot device pets in romance novels by making the dogs actually completely integral to the story and the characters - Ashanti is hugely defined by her adoration of every dog she meets - in a way that I really enjoy. will I read the upcoming sequel, Pugs and Kisses? fuck it. maybe.

White Feminism: From the Suffragettes to Influencers and Who They Leave Behind (Koa Beck, 2019) - Beck's book falls in a really sweet spot of building very well on a lot of feminism 101 to actually meaningfully discuss new concepts without being redundant. okay, yes, you've heard "white feminism" is bad, but do you know why? Beck has some of the most well laid-out explanations I've ever encountered, thoroughly detailing the ways in which white feminism reject collectivist anti-capitalist action in favor of individual advancement within the status quo. plus there is, as promised, a great historical throughline, contrasting the actions of historical middle and upper class white feminists against those of actions largely headed up by women who are Black, brown, Jewish, and/or immigrants who served entire communities. the takedown of "lean in" office girlboss culture is particularly killer.

Acts of Service (Lillian Fishman, 2022) - a short novel, ideal for reading in a couple hours if you love mess and happen to be trapped in various airports and flights with not much else to do! I was expecting another entry in the obnoxiously disaffected young woman genre and was pleasantly surprised by how curious and engaged our protagonist, Eve, actually is! much like Edie of Luster, I think she's gonna be alright once this deranged throuple situation blows over. ultimately I don't know if the conclusion of the novel hit for me as well as Luster did, and when I got to the end of the book I did kind of find myself going damn... and what was the point of all that? I have no idea, but it was well-crafted and I'm glad that I didn't read this like six months ago because it probably would have killed me with toxic horny poisoning at that point in my life. I'm normal now.

[runningincircl3s]

Blood Sport

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Chapter Two

chapter warnings: mentions of drinks (although never stated as alcoholic?)

happy friday!! i did NOT expect this story to get so much love so far, i can't believe it?? seriously thank you so much!! i'm hoping it lives up to it's expectations as it's been so so fun to write, i've definitely fallen back in love with writing and i think this story will certainly reflect that <3

also, like with nothing ever after, i thought i'd share my playlist for this story! i wanted to make it fit with the chapters but nope it is an unorganised mess, and i will still be adding to it as i write more! but anyways are we ready to face noah again...

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You adjusted the strap of your dress in front of Matt's hallway mirror, trying your best to ignore the anxiety crawling up your spine. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult, not for you. Matt and Alyson were getting married, and you were invited to celebrate with them. It's not like this was your big day. So it should be simple, right?

Except everything about this felt complicated. Besides Bryan (and now Matt and Folio), you hadn’t seen any of the guys in the band since last year, so you were worried about how they'd react, especially Noah. You couldn't even think about him without your chest tightening, so the thought of seeing him again had your heart beating faster than you were comfortable with.

However, you pushed all these thoughts to the back of your mind, attempting to focus on the task at hand.

“Are you ready?” You asked Matt, before helping him adjust his tie.

“As ready as I can be.”

You chuckled, smoothing down the fabric of his jacket, admiring the way he looked in his suit.

“You look great. Alyson’s going to lose it when she sees you.”

Matt smiled, but there was a hint of nervousness in his eyes.

“I just… I don’t want to mess this up, you know?”

You paused, giving him a reassuring look.

“You’re not going to mess anything up. You love her. She loves you. That’s all that matters.”

He met your gaze, his usual confidence had been replaced by anxiety, but he still put on his best smile.

“I’m lucky, huh?”

“Very.” You agreed softly, your smile turning a little bittersweet as your mind brought you back to somebody. 

Noah. 

How, if things were different, he would've been here with you. You could've been attending your best friends wedding together.

But instead, you almost felt like you shouldn't be going. He surely wouldn't want to see you again, how would he react to you turning up to his best friends wedding?

Matt seemed to notice you drift away into thought, so he cleared his throat.

“Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. We've got a wedding to get to!”

As he turned toward the door, you called out.

“Wait, Matt. You’re forgetting something.”

He suddenly spun back around.

“I am?”

You dug into your bag and pulled out a small box, handing it to him.

“A little something I got you for good luck.” You said with a wink.

"Good luck?" He raised an eyebrow, "Isn't this just for the bride?"

"Well, not this time." You chuckled, watching him inspect it.

Matt opened the box, revealing a small silver keychain with a tiny plush raccoon hanging from it.

“You know me too well.” He grinned, tucking it into his pocket. “Thanks, y/n. Seriously. You were the first person I told when I thought about proposing, you’ve been a part of this since day one. Even if it's tough for you... I’m really glad you’re here.”

You smiled, feeling that familiar lump at the back of your throat.

“Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

As Matt stepped out, you couldn’t help but think back to when you first met the guys, and how so much had changed, but so much had stayed the same.

You still remember when Matt first met Alyson, he had told you it was love at first sight, which made it even more difficult for him to ask her out on their first date, fearing she'd say no and he'd spend the rest of his life alone.

And now here they were, all these years later, on their wedding day.

Something in the air felt different this afternoon as you stepped out of the house into the warm sun. For the first time in months, you felt hopeful. You were starting to feel like maybe you were ready for you own next step, whatever that might be.

Maybe it was time to make a profile on some dating apps.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Your anxiety was sky high when you wandered through the venue, knowing he would be there somewhere. The venue itself was beautiful, the colour theme was red and cream, with touches of black, so all the decorations were set out to match. 

You took a deep breath, smoothing your dress as you scanned the room, your eyes landing on Jolly. 

You felt a relief wash over you at the familiar face, so you began to walk over to greet him and Nicole. 

“Hi!” You grinned, noticing their surprise as they turned around to see you. 

“Oh my God, y/n!” Nicole wrapped her arms around you, embracing you in a warm hug as Jolly chuckled. 

“Let her breathe, ‘Cole.” 

“Sorry,” she laughed, “You look so beautiful… How have you been? Jolly kinda told me about the... Situation…” 

“I’m okay,” you said, forcing a smile, “Just a little nervous about seeing him again. But that’s not what todays for, it’s Matt and Alyson’s big day and I won’t let him ruin it.”

“So how long have you been back?” Jolly asked, sliding an arm around his girlfriend's waist.

“I got here a couple days ago, I’m staying with Matt at the moment, but me and Folio are actually looking to find a place together around here!” 

Their faces screwed up, a look of horror washing over them.

“You and Folio…?!”

“As friends, Jesus!” You laughed, “He wants to get out of Noah’s place, and I’ve got to be out of my place by the end of the month, so you might be seeing a whole lot more of me.” 

“That’s great!” Nicole smiled.

“I’m sure Noah would agree.” Jolly smirked, before Nicole gave him a look, making him apologise. 

“So… Is he here?” You asked. 

“By the bar,” Jolly nodded, “I can’t believe he brought her.” 

Your chest burned, turning back to look at Jolly.

“Her?”

“You don’t know about Amy?” 

“No?” 

“Shit,” he ran his hand through his hair, “She’s this girl he’s kind of... Dating. I thought one of the guys would've told you.” 

“Why should they? What he does doesn’t concern me anymore,” you said, as if you were trying to convince yourself, “He can do whatever he wants.” 

Then, as you looked away again, you spotted him by the bar.

Noah.

It was like the air shifted the moment you spotted him. 

He stood leaning against the bar, a drink in hand as he spoke to Ruffilo. The sharp black suit he wore fit too well, his dark hair parted in the middle, falling over his eyes perfectly like it always did. 

He was still Noah. Still the stupid, hot bastard.

And then, as if he felt you staring, he looked up.

The moment your eyes met, the world around you quietened.

His posture stiffened ever so slightly, fingers tightening around his glass. For a moment, neither of you could look away. You noticed the look of surprise in his eyes, he clearly didn’t expect to see you here. 

You’d spent the weeks leading up to today trying to prepare for this, but nothing could have braced you for actually seeing him again. Especially when he looked this damn good.

Then, just as quickly as the moment arrived, it shattered.

A perfectly manicured hand curled around his arm, and a girl leaned her head on his shoulder. 

So that must be Amy.

She was stunning, the type of beauty that would make you turn your head on the streets. Everything about her was flawless, her hair, her dress, her makeup- if you didn’t know better, you’d think she was the one getting married today.

And suddenly, you felt small.

“Everything okay?” Jolly asked softly, snapping you out of whatever was going on in your mind. 

You swallowed hard, willing away the tightness in your chest as you nodded. 

“Yep... Never been better.” 

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

As you all began to get into your places for the actual ceremony, you caught Folio, dragging him by the arm to the corner of the room. 

“Why the fuck didn’t you tell me about Amy?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your voice down. 

“I wasn’t sure how…” He explained, “They’re nothing serious, I didn’t even know she’d be here today. Fuck, I don’t even know how she is, she wasn’t invited!” 

"Nothing serious? Nick, Jolly told me they're dating!"

"Okay, maybe they are..."

“How long?”

“Huh?” 

“How long have they been together?” You said through gritted teeth, trying to keep your composure.

“...A few months.” 

You nodded your head.

You had no reason to be upset, angry or even jealous. He wasn’t yours anymore, he was never really yours to begin with. 

Your eyes drifted over to them, chatting by the front row. You watched the way her hand brushed his arm, the way he smiled down at her, looking at her like she was the only person in the room. 

You don't care. You shouldn't care. Why did you care?

“I’m sorry,” you said, shaking your head, “I shouldn’t care anymore, should I?” 

Nick’s expression softened, and he frowned as he took your hand in his. 

“You loved him… There’s no stronger feeling than that. If it was really real, you can’t expect to just make it stop.”

“I guess,” you sighed, your gaze catching a very stressed out Matt pacing the floor, “I guess we better get in our places.”

“Yeah,” Folio smiled, dropping your hand, “Good idea.” 

The two of you walked down to your seats, and you were glad to see you were in between the two Nick’s. 

“Oh, Nick!” You grinned as you greeted him, “I’ve missed you so much.” 

His arms pull you in to a warm hug as he stands up. 

“Hey! It’s so good to see you again… I missed you too, what happened?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, pulling away. 

“I get why you’d stop talking to Noah, but us too?”

“I didn’t think you guys would ever want to talk to me again,” you frowned, “I’m sorry.” 

“Of course we'd still want you in our lives, it'd be weird without you," he chuckled, "We all make mistakes, y/n."

“Yeah, some worse than others.” You sigh, sitting down in your seat. 

Your eyes meet Noah's again as you look up, like he had already been watching you. Your breath caught and you felt your face heat up as you quickly diverted your vision, and he did the same.

"We didn't tell him you were coming," Nicholas explained, "He asked me about you last night, I had to lie and tell him I didn't know if you'd be here."

“I’m starting to think I shouldn’t be.”

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

The reception was beautiful, warm string lights draped across the garden of the venue, casting everything in a soft, golden glow as the sun began to set. You tried your best to enjoy yourself, talking with your friends, having a few drinks, meeting some of Matt and Alyson's other friends. You wanted tonight to be fun, for you all to look back with happy memories of it. But one thing made that difficult.

One person. 

You had done your best to avoid Noah all evening, but it was impossible to ignore his presence, the sound of his voice, his laughter over the music. Even when you weren't looking, you could still feel he was there. You tried to keep your eye on him to make sure you didn't come face to face unexpectedly. 

You had made it through the first hour unscathed.

Then, you slipped up.

You approached the bar for another drink, forgetting that he had been standing just a few feet away.

You noticed Amy had left early, as Noah was alone for most of the night, and through Jolly, you had learned the details of their relationship. She was a model and a wannabe singer who had reached out to Noah for help writing a song. Instead of making music, they clearly made something else.

You weren’t sure who moved first, but somehow, you both ended up side by side at the bar. Close enough that you could smell his cologne, the smell that was once comforting now filled you with nerves.

Noah barely glanced at you as he leaned against the counter, fingers drumming against the wood while he waited for his drink.

“You look…” He started but then stopped, shaking his head.

You slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow.

“I look?”

“Never mind.” He scoffed, bringing his glass to his lips. “Forget I said anything.”

He exhaled sharply, eyes narrowing like he was annoyed with himself for almost slipping. The words had nearly left his lips, and for a moment he had forgotten how this was supposed to be, how he was supposed to act cold, distant, indifferent.

But you saw it in his eyes as he looked at you, and you heard the way his voice softened as he spoke to you. There was something there that told you he missed you, even if hed never admit it.

You hated how much it made your heart race.

A tense silence stretched between you, filled with all the things left unsaid. The kind that made it impossible to breathe.

Until finally, he broke it.

“I wasn’t sure you’d come today.” His voice was quieter this time.

“Yeah, well… They're my friends too.”

Before you could say anything else, the music slowed and Matt and Alyson’s first dance started.

Everyone turned to watch them sway together beneath the twinkling lights. The moment was intimate, beautiful, and it should’ve been nothing more than that. But standing here, next to Noah, watching two people so in love, it made your heart ache in your chest.

You thought about what you've lost, what you could've had with Noah. How this could've been the two of you one day, but instead you were stood side by side in silence, like you were nothing more than strangers.

You felt his gaze shift to you, and despite yourself, you turned to meet it.

There was something in his expression you couldn’t quite place, softness, maybe, or hesitation. Like he wanted to say something, but knew better.

Your fingers rested against the bar, just inches from his. Your breath hitched when his hand shifted ever so slightly, the smallest movement, like he almost wanted to close the distance. For a moment, it felt like nothing had changed, like the past year had been nothing but a bad dream.

But then reality came crashing back.

He had Amy now. He had clearly moved on.

And so you pulled your hand back.

His eyes flickered downward, landing on the necklace you wore. The one he had given you for your birthday. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words

"You still wear it?" He asked, almost as if he was in disbelief.

You swallowed hard, your fingers instinctively reaching for the necklace his eyes were fixed on. The one he had given you on your birthday, the day before everything turned to shit.

"I never take it off," you admitted, "I guess... It reminds me of you." 

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant and gently brushing over your skin, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

Without thinking, he reached out, fingertips ghosting over the pendant, a barely-there touch that sent a shiver down your spine. But the second he made contact, something in him snapped.

His hand recoiled like he had been burned.

He straightened, swallowing hard, his expression closing off as quickly as it had softened. Whatever moment you’d just shared, he crushed it, along with any hopes you had that maybe there was still something between you, that your relationship could be salvaged.

“Enjoy the wedding." He said, voice unreadable, before walking away.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, gripping the edge of the bar to steady yourself.

So that was how it was going to be.

Fine.

You finished your drink and headed back to the table where Nick was sitting with Jolly and Nicole. 

“Everything okay?” He asked, a slight smirk tugging on his lips. 

“Yeah. Why?” You questioned, sitting down beside him. 

“We saw you talking to him… What did he say?” 

You sighed, your eyes drifting away to him, watching how he laughed with his friends. At least he wasn’t hurting anymore, or so you thought. 

Noah, on the other hand, didn’t know how he felt. He had spent so long telling himself he was over you, that he had moved on. But the moment he saw you tonight, he realised that nothing had really changed. 

The feelings were still there.

And he hated himself for it. 

“He said he wasn’t sure I’d come tonight.” You finally say, turning back to Folio. 

“Was that it?” He scoffed, “The way he was looking at you I thought you’d come back and tell us he confessed his undying love-” 

“Nick, leave it, please.” You groaned, watching as Matt and Alyson still danced on the floor, a more upbeat song playing now.

“No. I know there’s something he’s hiding, y/n. The two of you need to talk, you need to-”

“Nick.” You repeated, “Stop. I don’t want to do this tonight. He has a girlfriend now, I need to respect that.” 

Nicole turned to look at you, an almost sympathetic look on her face before she got up, reaching a hand out to you. 

“C’mon, dance with me.” 

“Me?” You laughed, shooting a look at Jolly as if to say it should be you!

“Yes, you! We need to lighten the mood, and I love this song!” She grinned as she pulled you along to the dancefloor. 

Do you believe in life after love…

“You’re lucky I love you!” You grinned, "I wouldn't dance with anybody else!"

"Oh yeah?" She smirked, eyes trailing over to Noah, who seemed to be watching from the corner of his eye.

The two of you danced along, and after Matt left, Alyson joined the two of you. 

“Are you having fun?!” She shouted over the music. 

“We are now!” Nicole smiled. 

“I can’t believe you’re finally married!” You shouted, and Alyson nodded. 

“I know! And to my best friend… If only I could go back in time and tell myself… Things will get better…” You could see her eyes filling with tears, and you quickly wrapped your arms around her. 

“Hey!” You frowned, wiping away her tears, "None of that! This is a happy night!"

Alyson let out a teary laugh, nodding as she hugged you back.

"You're right. I'm just- I'm so happy, I don’t think I’ve ever felt like this before."

Nicole wrapped her arms around both of you, pulling you into a tight embrace as she called for a group hug.  

The three of you danced along to the music together for a moment, and for the first time in forever, you let yourself be happy. You let yourself enjoy the moment, surrounded by your favourite people, your friends that you considered family.

But then, as you turned, your eyes met his again.

Noah was still there, still watching.

His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his gaze that you couldn't quite place. A look of regret? Longing?

You weren’t sure.

And you weren’t sure you even wanted to know.

So, instead of lingering, instead of thinking too much, you turned back to your friends and let yourself laugh and have fun, you let yourself feel like everything was okay.

Just for tonight.

-------------------------------@bloody-spades @death-ofpeace-ofmind @miss570 @dominuslunae @dontwantthemoney @amelia-acero @noahslutbastian @blade-dressed-in-red @super-btstrash-posts @kait16xo @oobleoob @sunshine-lvrr @lacy1986 @enemiestolovershoe @samanthasgone

this is still a new taglist so if i forgot you (IM SORRY) or you want to be added please just let me know!! :)

[niningtori]

clementine | preview

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: after your explosive breakup and wordless, thorough disappearance from beomgyu's life, he's surprised to see that you've moved back to his town. when he happens to meet you again, beomgyu wants to apologize, maybe make amends for his unforgivable behavior, but he's devastated to find out that you've erased every memory of him. you don't want to remember him—or the love you once held onto so desperately—anymore. he knows that to be the case, so why is it so hard for him to feel the same way?

genre: angst, romance, potentially second chance, asshole!beomgyu to groveling! beomgyu (who saw this one coming...), inspired by eternal sunshine of the spotless mind tho i've never seen it and only know major plot points through cultural osmosis

warnings: angst, previous toxic relationship

word count: tbd

release date: really far in the future probably

notes: i received a request for this a while ago and i said i'd think about it then received an ask a couple of weeks ago saying another author was working on something based on the same movie. again, i've never seen the movie and i haven't read the author's work (or any new fanfiction rlly in the past few months cuz i haven't been in the headspace to enjoy it) so i will be making it up based off of the general concept of having memories of an ex erased. i said i'd wait to post it and i have every intention of doing so but i wrote this in a moment of inspiration and i've been posting previews so i thought i'd post this just as a teaser! it won't be out for a long time cuz i have so many wips and i don't want to be inconsiderate or invite weird, unsolicited comparisons. i just want to post previews bc i'm excited to get back into consistently writing after almost quitting 🥹

-

it’s jarring, to say the least, to see an estranged ex you used to love more than anything else in any unexpected context; but it's especially jarring for beomgyu as he watches you chatter away on your phone in the middle of the cafe he finds himself in. he catches your eye for just a second before you look away, and it's like he can't breathe. after your phone call, you smile as you type away on your screen. beomgyu gulps, because he knows that since you two made eye contact, it would be weird to just leave and pretend he didn't see you, though that's exactly what he wants to do. besides, no matter how much of a coward he is, he can't keep living with his unspoken feelings when he finally has the opportunity to express them, no matter how resolutely you might reject them. he hesitantly rises from his seat and walks over to you with unsure steps.

“hey,” he says unsteadily. you look up from your screen and give a forced smile, a far cry from the easy affection you used to give him. only him.

“uh, hey?” you reply. beomgyu worries he did the wrong thing by approaching you, especially because you seem confused that he said anything at all. you probably expected him to exit the cafe without a word, and the thought that you thought that he, who was once completely and utterly in love with you, would brush you off so easily brings a sharp pang to his chest.

“i… i know it’s been a while, but i… i want to, um, apologize for… everything.” he wants to lay down and die at his awkwardness, but he's wanted to say these words for so long, and no matter how much he’s compelled to swallow them down and safely tuck them away in the home they've carved out for themselves in his stomach, he knows this is the right thing to do. especially since you blocked him on everything before changing your number. especially since you moved away without a word after your disastrous breakup. especially since he hasn't seen you in so long, and he doesn't know if he'll ever see you again after this. your eyebrows furrow, and he braces himself for impact. but no amount of contrived mental fortitude could ever prepare him for your next words.

“... do i know you from somewhere?”

notes pt. 2: might delete this preview so be prepared for that possibility 🫰 peace and blessings :,) but please don't be mean or weird like actually

[clytemnestradidnothingwrong]

I've got thoughts on this article that I'm going to share whether anyone likes it or not.

"When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake."

Gay and "transgender" are opposing concepts, and this is one of the many things that prove it. When a sibling comes out a gay, you don't usually have another sibling following.

"My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

I used to think this was admirable and that people like this were just misled, but the more I gain exposure to these types, the more I think no, they're not really that well intentioned. A lot of this modern "social justice activism" just seems to be unearned hero complexes. Are you really so self-absorbed that you think asking people to say pronouns is truly going to save the world?

"Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent."

As much as SJW types annoy me, I do think it's a real shame that "social justice" has just become another sniff-your-own-farts movement instead of I-actually-care-about-other-people movement. Just feeds into my theory that humans by nature are not good. I'm also sick of everyone asking us to repress our instincts in favor of embracing whatever narrative is trendy.

"Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender."

This is what everyone's doing now, and it's disturbing. Fake woke parents like this who immerse themselves in faux social justice are convinced "trans" people are the world's most oppressed group, and are thus constantly on the alert for any signs of being "trans". If "trans" people hadn't killed the feminist movement and gay rights community, these kids would just be allowed to be themselves. Especially because a lot of traits that everyone believes now means "transgender" actually mean gay. Whether they realize it or not (and tbh I think many do deep down), these pretend liberals have primed everyone to sniff out signs of homosexuality so that modern medicine can "fix" it through "gender affirming care".

"My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys. In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world."

My coworker does this. She has a son and she calls him "he", but she won't ever refer to him as her son or as a boy. People have deluded themselves into thinking this does something good, but all it does is make it harder to acknowledge reality.

"Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say. We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender."

To me, this reveals the inherent misogyny of trans activists. The idea that a boy can't prefer being around girls instead of others boys is misogyny.

"Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity."

"Trans" kids are like vegan cats - they are made, not born.

"At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day."

You would think anyone who is familiar with child psychology at all would understand the child should never lead, but that would be underestimating the power of group think.

"I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside."

Every time I hear or see this "what matters is how you feel!" bullshit, I wonder what less individualistic cultures think when they read it. Because when you take a step back and look at it objectively, it comes off as incredibly self-centered.

"He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself."

Rationalizing the irrational. If she had taken a step back, maybe she would've realized she only made him more confused, which is what leaves children vulnerable to the abuse that is "gender affirming care".

"His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation."

Again, I'm beyond disgusted about how twisted the "progressive" movement became. I'm disgusted by how ALL well intentioned movements so quickly descend into something evil.

"On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did."

A "trans" kid of your own making.

"We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name."

I wonder if you (or any trans activist) ever considered that maybe he was so excited to be a "girl" because you told him he could be after he spent years asking you what he was.

"We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name."

That's pretty fucked up that you tried to force this crap on a 2 year old, actually.

"When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?"

I ask myself this every time I see a mother "transition" her child. The answer is almost always CLOUT.

"Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers."

See?

"One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones."

From an outside-of-the-cult standpoint, this makes no sense. He's not exploring anything. You've locked him in.

"We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?"

No. Nobody is.

"At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were."

There's that clout as a reward again.

"We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids."

Well, this explains how they justify butchering autistic children. Talk about rebooting the Indigo Child.

"At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her."

This is such an INSANE thing to tell your clients, holy shit, that therapist should be FIRED.

"Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex."

Exactly. There's no "exploration of gender" or "finding yourself" at all. It's creating a "transgender" child out of thin air.

"The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child."

Can someone who isn't in the trans cult explain to me how this ISN'T manipulative, borderline abuse?

"His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed."

He saw the attention and affection his brother was getting and wanted it for himself. That's it. That's the explanation.

"We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender. To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used."

Oh honey, their livelihood depends on transing people. They're never going to say "no, you're not trans".

"When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder."

Oh, I'd love to see the evidence for this claim, because it sounds like bullshit.

"For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel."

Feels like leaving a cult, huh?

"In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry."

You'll never convince me there's such thing as a "transgender child". Only an abused child.

"Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We��ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy."

What these evil, greedy butchers don't tell you is that if you had never been exposed to the regressive concept of "transgender", this never would've happened, and these "trans" kids would've just grown up to be unique boys and girls. "Transgender" takes the innocence and health away from children, and I'll never forgive those demons for inventing it. Good for her for getting her and her family out of this cult.

"I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state."

Cults aren't just confined to small towns or ranches in the middle of nowhere.

"I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are."

The fact that gay and disabled kids are being led down this path of medical experimentation and lies absolutely disgusts me. You can call me mean, you can say I'm awful and hateful, but at the end of the day, I'm not the one telling people they were born wrong.

May this mother and her sons find peace.

By: Anonymous

Published: Oct 16, 2023

When my first son claimed he was trans, I eagerly ‘affirmed’ him. When his three-year-old brother decided he wanted to be trans, too, I realized I’d made a terrible mistake.

I was a social-justice organizer and facilitator before social justice took over the progressive world. I was at the nascent movement’s forefront, introducing the concept of intersectionality to organizations and asking people to share their pronouns.

My friends and I felt like we were the cool kids, on the vanguard of the revolutionary wave that would change the world. We were going to achieve what people in that milieu call “collective liberation.”

Within this context, I came out as a lesbian and identified as queer. I also fell in love, entered a committed relationship, and gave birth to a son. Two years later, my spouse gave birth to our second son.

Having children and experiencing the love and devotion I felt toward them, was a game changer for me. I began to experience internal tensions. My thinking was split between what I felt instinctively as a mother; and what I “should” be feeling and doing as a white anti-racist social-justice parent.

Because I’d felt victimized by my parents’ rejection of my sexuality, I wanted to make sure to honor my own children’s “authentic” selves. In particular, I was primed to look for any clues that might suggest they could be transgender.

My spouse and I raised our sons with gender-neutral clothes, toys, and language. While we used he/him pronouns, and others called them boys, we did not call them boys, or even tell them that they were boys.

In our everyday reading of books or descriptions of people in our lives, we did not say “man” or “woman”; we said “people.” We thought we were doing the right thing, both for them and for the world.

Even when our first son was still young, he already struck us as different from other boys—being both extremely gifted and unusually sensitive. By age three or so, he started to orient more toward the females in his life than the males. “I like the mamas,” he would say.

We started to attribute some of this difference to the possibility that he was transgender. Instead of orienting him toward the reality of his biological sex by telling him he was a boy, we wanted him to tell us if he felt he was a boy or a girl. As true believers, we thought that we should “follow his lead” to determine his true identity.

At the same time, I was taking a deep dive into the field of attachment and child development. This made me understand that attachment is hierarchical; and that parents, not children, are meant to be in the lead. This obviously conflicted with my insistence on letting my child decide his gender. Sadly, it was the latter impulse that won the day.

At around age four, my son began to ask me if he was a boy or a girl. I told him he could choose. I didn’t use those words—I imagined that I was taking a more sophisticated approach. I told him, “When babies are born with a penis, they are called boys, and when babies are born with a vagina, they are called girls. But some babies who are born with a penis can be girls, and some babies born with a vagina can be boys. It all depends on what you feel deep inside.”

He continued to ask me what he was, and I continued to repeat these lines. I’d resolved my inner conflict by “leading” my son with this framework. Or so I told myself.

His question, and my response to it, would come back to haunt me. In fact, I remain haunted to this day. To the extent I was “leading” my son anywhere, it was down a path of lies—an on-ramp to psychological damage and irreversible medical interventions. All in the name of love, acceptance, and liberation.

About six months later, he told my spouse that he was a girl and wanted to be called “sister” and “she/her.” I received a text message about this at work. On the way home that night, I resolved to put all my own feelings away and support my transgender child. And that is what I did.

We told him he could be a girl. He jumped up and down on the bed, happily saying, “I’m a girl, I’m a girl!” We—not our son—initiated changing his name. We socially transitioned him and enforced this transition with his younger brother, who was then only two years old and could barely pronounce his older brother’s real name.

When I look back at this, it is almost too much to write about. How could a mother do this to her child? To her children?

Once we made this decision, we received resounding praise and affirmation from most of our peers. One of my friends, who’d also socially transitioned her young child, assured me that this was a healthy, neutral way to allow children to “explore” their gender identity before puberty, when decisions would have to be made about puberty blockers and hormones.

We sought out support groups for parents of transgender children, so that we could find out if we’d done the “right thing.” It hadn’t escaped my notice that our son hadn’t exhibited any signs of actual gender dysphoria. Was he actually transgender?

At these support groups, we were told, again, what good parents we were. We were also told that kids on the autism spectrum (which our son likely is) are gender savants who simply know they are transgender earlier than other kids.

At one of the support groups we attended, we were also told that transgender identity takes a few years to develop in children. The gender therapist running things told us that during this period, it’s important to protect the child’s transgender self-conception—which meant eliminating all contact with family or friends who didn’t support the idea that our son was a girl. I believed her.

Looking back, I now see her comments in a shockingly different light: this was part of an intentional process of concretizing transgender identity in children who are much too young to know themselves in any definitive way. (One set of parents attending the group had a child who was just three years old.) When identity is “affirmed” in this manner, children will grow up believing they are actually the opposite sex.

The therapist endorsed the same approach that many adolescents use on their parents, who are urged to write letters to grandparents, aunts, and uncles to announce the child’s transgender identity. In these letters, the conditions of continued social engagement are made clear: Recipients must use the new name and new pronouns, and embrace the new identity, or they will be denied contact with the child.

After about a year of social transition for our older son, our younger son, who was by now only three years old, began to say he was a girl, too. This came as a complete shock to us. None of the things that made our older son “different” applied to our younger son. He was more of a stereotypical boy and didn’t show the same affinity for the feminine side of things that his older brother did.

The urge for “sameness” is a primal attachment drive in many family members. We felt that our younger son’s assertion of being a girl likely reflected his desire to be like his older sibling, in order to feel connected to him.

His claim to be a girl became more insistent when both brothers went to school part-time, because their program included pronoun sharing. Why could the older sibling be a “she” when the younger sibling couldn’t? Our younger son became more insistent, and we became more distressed.

We made an appointment to see the gender therapist whom we’d met at the support group. We truly believed that she would be able to help us sort out who, if anyone, was actually transgender.

To our shock, the therapist immediately began referring to our younger son as “she,” stating that whatever pronouns a young child wants to use are the pronouns that must be used.

She patronizingly assured us that it might take us more time to adjust, since parents have a hard time with this sort of thing. She added that it was transphobic to believe there was anything wrong with our younger son wanting to be like his older transgender sibling.

When I pushed back and asserted that I wasn’t yet convinced our younger son was in fact transgender, she told me that if I failed to change his pronouns and honor his newly announced identity, he could develop an attachment disorder.

We were unconvinced. But, again, we wanted to do what was right for our son and for the world. We decided to tell him he could be a girl. And that night at dinner, we told him that we would call him “she/her.”

Right after dinner, I went to play an imaginary game with him, and I wanted to be affirming. So I put a big, warm smile on my face and said, “Hi, my girl!”

At this, my younger son stopped, looked at me, and said, “No, mama. Don’t call me that.” His reaction pierced me to my core. I didn’t turn back after that.

For the next two years, my partner and I dug deeper, agonized, and then continued digging again. Everything we thought we knew or believed that had led us to socially transition our older son began to unravel.

I continued to study the attachment-based developmental approach to parenting and learned more about autism and hypersensitivity. We decided not to socially transition our younger son. Not only was he not transgender, we now realized, but our older son probably wasn’t either.

He was just a highly sensitive, likely autistic boy who saw a girl identity as a form of psychic protection. It also provided him a way of attaching to me through sameness.

My spouse and I decided that since we’d been the ones who’d led him down this path, we were the ones who needed to lead him off of it.

A year ago, just before our older son’s eighth birthday, we did just that. And while the initial change was hard—incredibly hard—the strongest emotion exhibited by our son turned out to be relief.

In the days following my first conversation with him about going back to his birth name and pronouns, during which I told him that males cannot be females and that we were wrong to tell him he could choose to be a girl, he got very mad at me, then sad. Then, the next day, I felt my son rest. I felt him release a burden, an adult burden that he, as a child, was never meant to carry.

Since that time, we’ve all been healing. My son is now happy and thriving. We’ve watched him come to a deeper peace with himself as a boy.  

Our younger son is also thriving. Once his older brother became his older brother again, he happily, and almost immediately, settled into his identity as a boy.

I feel like someone who’s escaped a cult—a cult whose belief system is supported by our mainstream culture, the Internet, and even the state.

I fear for the future—the future of sensitive, feminine, socially awkward boys. I fear what the world will tell them about who they are.

But no matter what the future holds, I will never ever stop fighting to protect my sons. I am no longer a true believer.

[ssaaaronmontgomery]

so…sub!hotch.

Whatever gender you prefer to interpret this as is totally fine but when I think of sub Aaron I think he just needs a strong, burly man he can fully *trust* to hold him down so he can let go. I think he has one of those moments where he gets smacked around a little bit and it’s this deep release, just absolutely sobbing and so desperate for comfort.

GOD YES HOLDING HIM DOWN

This post is Hotch x gender neutral!reader

*NSFW MDNI*

Holding him down plsplsplspspls I want to do that. I want to use his ties too.

I've never really thought much about smacking him around or making him cry and be desperate for comfort but this is definitely making me think about it.

He has to REALLY trust the person that he does this with though. It would take him a very long time to get comfortable with the idea of letting anyone do this to him. And I think he has to come to you about it first. Asking if you would ever want to try it, but that he was just thinking about it and that he isn't sure yet. You could definitely ask him first too, but you'd have to wait a good while before mentioning it to him because I think he'd be a little uncomfortable at first.

Once he is ready though, he tells you one night when you're both in bed together, probably watching some movie that neither of you are too interested in. And then he brings it up.

"Hey, you know how we talked about...well about you being really rough with me at some point? Well I've been thinking about it a lot lately and I think I'm ready to give it a try."

You need him to be completely sure though. So you ask him.

"Are you sure you're ready? You said you think you are. I want you to be completely certain about this, Aaron."

So he thinks for a second before nodding his head and telling you that he's definitely ready for it.

You both talk it through and talk about safe words. You explain what will happen and ask if he's comfortable with it all. You ask him what all he wants and what he is wanting to get from this experience. You both agree on what he doesn't want you to do to him. You know it could take a lot out of Aaron and you want him to be as ready and at ease as possible.

You would start slow and work him up to really getting rough. You spank him lightly a few times and gradually increase the force. I don't think he would like you using anything on him like a belt though. He likes it when you grab his jaw and force him to look at you.

I'm not sure about smacking him around a lot, I'd like to spank him a bit though so that's what I'm including here. Making him cry for release though is something I love. Maybe choking him some too 😮‍💨. But holding him down or tying him up is a favourite. He has finished more than once by the time you're done with him. He's whining and whimpering from overstimulation, begging you to give him a break but babbling about needing you to use him. If he really wanted you to stop you know he would say one of his safe words. Pinning his hands down when he tries to squirm too much or if he tries to make a move when you told him he wasn't allowed to touch you or himself.

And then how you clean him up and soothe him after everything to let him know he's safe and loved and that it's okay. He loves it when you hold him in your arms where he knows he can be vulnerable and let go. He doesn't have to worry about you really hurting him or anything. He likes feeling safe and secure with you and curling up in your arms.

Thank you for the ask!! I've never thought about something exactly like this especially not in depth but it was fun :)

[hivemuthur]

Hii! Thank you for replying. I've read five things and loved it so much I wanted to send another ask, and somehow managed to forget to send it, but never mind here it is now.

I was thinking a viktor×reader who were eachother's first everything (early academy days?) but than the reader had to move away for schooling/work, whatever, but now they're back (sometime after the beginning of hextech) and have to work with jayce and viktor. How would that dynamic look like? They didn't breakup over an argument or because they fell out of love but because that's the way life took them. I'm imagining them knowing eachother so well inside and out to the point people just assume they're dating. (Reader making viktors coffee even better than he can himself, viktor making something to fix a problem reader has but never had a solution for, anything really). And I don't know, maybe, possibly, somehow the tension gets to be too much for both of them and they're both more skilled now and whatnot... (I could live without that part tho, is you feel like it doesn't fit)

Sorry if the ask is too complicated, I've just been thinking about it for so long.

I know it's gonna be a while before you can write it but I can't wait to read all of the other requests in the meantime.❤️

~🍒

Dear sweet 🍒 Janna, hello again! Here's your fic!

Same As It Ever Was

viktorxfemale!reader explicit! a bit of everything - fluff, angst (light), smut

word count: 5,6K

author’s note: this is very freeform, an experiment, kinda? A story told in vignettes, little scenes between Viktor and Reader since the moment she came back to the Academy interwoven with their past, sex included. For this to work, I've written current events in Present Tense and the flashbacks in Past Tense.

artist on X (obsessed at this point)

—

You brace yourself with a deep breath—just as you did all those years ago. With lungs full of air, you cross the threshold, and memories come crashing back. Heimerdinger’s lectures, suspicious cafeteria food, noise complaints from your neighbours when Jayce laughed too loud in your dorm. Your dorm itself—its lumpy bed, not enough cabinet space for your books, scattered notes, and long night study sessions with Viktor.

As promised, he and Jayce are there, waiting to pick you up in the entrance hall. Jayce is as giddy as ever—stretching, chattering, busying himself with the announcement board, occasionally pointing at something to get Viktor’s attention. He looks almost the same.

Viktor, on the other hand—nearly still. He leans on a… crutch? It’s a crutch now, huh. You wince at not knowing sooner. An extra brace on his leg as well. His form is more hunched than you remember. He nods at Jayce’s remarks absently, craning his head toward the door, and his face—oh. It lights up when he sees you, just as it used to. Your heart travels all the way up to your throat.

You have to force yourself not to skip. Jayce reaches you first, nearly crashing into you with his embrace. He’s stronger than before, his shoulders broader. Either he’s gotten taller, or Viktor looks shorter. He pats your back and chuckles a mumbled hi—but your eyes are already on Viktor.

He opens his arms in an inviting gesture, and you slide right in. He still fits. He still smells the same, though there’s a lingering trace of oil on his collar. His hair is longer, and his clothes hang looser on his frame, but he feels the same. His neck is just as pretty, his hands just as strong. They go where they used to—one to your back, the other cradling the nape of your neck. You take one last inhale before he pulls back, a familiar spark playing in his eyes as he says, "Welcome back."

***

You stared at the schedule board, squinting as you tried to make sense of the messy list. You muttered under your breath, crossing out dates in frustration when the door behind you creaked open.

A voice spoke from behind, calm and precise. “Do you need assistance?”

You turned to see him—tall, neat, with a cane at his side. Pretty hair falling boyishly over his forehead, eyes the colour of liquid gold, two freckles decorating his upper lip and a spot under his eye. His voice was thickly accented, and you suddenly felt dumber than ever.

“What gave me away?” you huffed, managing a smile. “Groaning or furious scribbling?”

“Eh, a little bit of both,” he said, leaning in slightly to point at a part of the board. “Let me help?”

You handed him your notebook, and he made quick work of explaining the confusing schedule. “Looks like we’ll be seeing each other,” he hummed, studying your timetable.

Thank the gods, you thought. Feigning surprise instead of relief, you raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

He nodded, the faintest smile pulling at his lips. “I’m looking forward to having class with you. I’m Viktor.”

In response, you muttered your name in one breath.

Without another word, he pressed the notebook into your hand, making sure your hands brushed, then turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, momentarily dumbfounded.

***

You follow Jayce and Viktor through the lab, eyes wide as they show you around. The space is far more impressive than you remember—equipment gleams, wires stretch across the ceiling like intricate veins, and the hum of machinery fills the air. Jayce is practically bouncing with excitement, narrating every little detail with an energy that nearly has you dizzy, while Viktor stays quieter, his gaze focused, occasionally glancing at you as though checking for your reactions.

You’re still trying to wrap your mind around everything when the tour finally ends, and Viktor turns to you with a small smile. “Is there anything you need?” he asks, his voice as smooth and calm as ever.

You consider it for a moment, then sigh dramatically. “I would kill for a coffee.”

Jayce snorts a laugh, “Things don’t really change, do they? Do you want to make it yourself as usual?”

“Of course, as you mentioned—things don’t change, which means I still don’t trust any of you with your coffee-making skills, Jayce,” you reply with a smirk, stepping past him toward the kitchenette area. Viktor watches you closely, but you don’t pay him any mind as you start pulling out the necessary ingredients. “Do you want one?” you throw over your shoulder. And Viktor nods with a smile.

You fall into an easy rhythm, just like old times. Your hands work quickly, grinding the beans, adjusting the water temperature, adding the perfect amount of milk—exactly how you know he likes it. It’s almost like your body remembers, and you can’t help but feel a strange sort of nostalgia as the familiar process comes naturally.

The sound of Viktor clearing his throat breaks your focus, and when you turn, he’s standing a little closer than you expected. His eyes are fixed on the coffee mug in your hands, and the way he’s staring at it almost makes you laugh.

You hand him the cup with a raised brow. “Did I get it right?”

He takes a slow sip, his expression unreadable at first. Then, after a long pause, he sets the cup down carefully on the counter, still looking at you, and says quietly, “Perfect.”

The fact that you remember how to make it, that you remember him—how he likes it, what he’s used to—has him speechless. You watch him for a moment, unsure of what he’s thinking, and the quiet fills the space between you both.

“Just like before,” he says, as though to himself, and you can't help but smile.

***

“Okay, coffee or death,” you whined, pressing your forehead to the desk with exaggerated dramatics. It had been your fourth hour of studying, and the letters on the page began to blur.

“I guess it’s coffee then,” Viktor stretched his legs in the chair before scrambling up to the kettle. “I have no idea how I would explain a corpse in my room.”

“I do not care what motivates your actions, I’m just in dire need of something keeping me alive, or I will fail this class,” you mumbled, still buried in the notes resting under your face. A cup set firmly by your left cheek made your eyebrow quirk, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ah, sweet salvation,” you hummed, grabbing it and taking a sip. And then—

“Viktor. What is this?”

Viktor’s voice was light as he shrugged. “It’s a coffee strong enough to keep you awake until morning.”

You winced, shaking your head slightly. “It’s so strong, it could actually solve the dead body problem you’ve mentioned before.”

He chuckled at that, his gaze still on you. “I suppose that’s one way to describe it.”

You huffed in frustration. “Do I have to do everything myself?”

Viktor only grinned, a spark of amusement in his eyes.

You rolled your eyes, pushing yourself out of your chair and crossing the room to the counter. “Alright, move aside.” You grabbed the ingredients with a practiced hand, preparing a new brew. “This is coffee, not the motor fluid you made.”

Viktor leaned back in his chair, watching you as you worked. “That’s very thoughtful. I suppose you can always become a barista if you fail the class.”

You turned, one eyebrow raised in challenge. “Just wait, Viktor. You’ll see. If I fail, I’ll open my own shop. I’ll call it ‘Professor Coffee’—I’ll make sure the brew is strong enough to wake the dead.”

Viktor’s laugh was soft but genuine. “It seems you’ve got it all figured out.”

***

You reach out, barely muttering, “Could you pass me…” before the tool is already in your hand. You glance at Viktor, who hasn’t even looked up from his work.

“How did you know?” you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise.

He taps his temple, a small smile playing beneath his goggles. “I have a good memory.”

***

You frowned at your workbench, trying to put a name to the tool you needed, but your mind blanked.

“Can you pass me the…” you began, unsure, your voice trailing off. You made a small gesture with your hand, hoping Viktor would somehow understand what you meant. Without hesitation, he handed you a wrench.

“No, not this,” you said, waving it off. “The other one?” You gestured again.

Viktor stared at you, brows furrowed, before passing you a screwdriver.

“Not that one either!” you huffed, frustration creeping in—not with him, but because your mind had suddenly decided to fail.

The ritual continued, with Viktor visibly amused as your hand hovered over the various tools he’d passed you. Wrenches, pliers, a hammer, and a couple of screwdrivers littered the workbench. You glanced down at your notes, trying to remember.

Viktor hummed, looking from your desk to your notes. His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled into a knowing smile. “Ah. This one?”

Before you could respond, he was standing behind you, lowering the tool into your hand. His arms brushed the sides of your face, and you felt the press of his stomach against your back. For a moment, you froze, breath catching in your throat.

“A calliper,” you whispered.

“Well done, lásko,” Viktor muttered into your ear.

***

The clock announces an hour way past when you’ve expected to be home already. “Should we call it a night?” you ask Viktor, who sits opposite you, a soft smile curling on his lips.

“Some things have changed, then,” he says, tapping his crutch lightly against the floor. “You used to work until figurative death back in the day.”

“Well, I guess I’m getting older,” you reply with a grin, your tone light but laced with a touch of weariness. “What about you? Any big changes?”

He knocks on his brace playfully, lifting the crutch with a small gesture. “Besides the visible?” He chuckles softly. “Not much. Still working to the death.”

Your smile falters for a second, your gaze softening as you roll closer to him on your chair. You rest your hands gently on his knees, studying his face for any signs of deeper discomfort.

“Are you well, though?” you ask, your voice quiet, careful.

Viktor looks at your hands for a moment, then props the crutch on the desk beside him. He squeezes your palms, his grip firm but tender.

“I am now,” he replies, his voice low, almost like a confession. “Haven’t been for a while, but now I’m well. As well as I can be.” He pauses for a beat, then adds with a small smile, “And now that you’re back, I’m even better.”

You brush your fingers gently through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence, the intimacy of the gesture. Viktor hums softly, his eyes fluttering closed in response. So familiar, you think, a wave of nostalgia washing over you.

You swallow before speaking again, a bittersweet smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I’ve missed you.”

Viktor’s eyes remain closed, his expression softening, and when he speaks, his voice heavier now when he sighs. “I know.” He pauses, squeezing your hand once more. “I’ve missed you too.”

***

You and Viktor lay in bed together, tangled in the warmth of each other’s embrace. His arm was draped around you, and the soft rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek was a steady comfort. The room was quiet, unbearably so, when you nuzzled into his neck, inhaling deeply. His scent—rich, familiar, like the warmth of him—filled your senses, and you clutched him tighter, as though trying to memorize the feeling of him.

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered, your voice muffled against his skin, your breath shaky with the weight of the thought.

Viktor hummed softly in response, his fingers tracing small circles on your back. "I know. I will miss you terribly too." His words were gentle, but there was a deep sadness in his voice that you could feel even without looking at him.

He nudged your face with his nose, his palm warm as it cupped your cheek. His touch felt like a promise, though you weren't sure what to expect. "If it's meant to be, we will meet again," he said, his voice low, the words wrapped in the quiet certainty.

A pang in your chest tugged at you, and without thinking, you leaned up, pressing your lips to his. The kiss was soft, but your heart ached with the knowledge that this might be the last time you felt him close. It tasted with bitter acceptance, as you poured every bit of feeling you had into it, hoping it would somehow last, somehow hold you both together despite the distance that would come.

When you pulled away, your heart felt heavy, like it was breaking in your chest.

***

You both sit on the couch in your apartment, papers and notes scattered around you, a quiet hum of frustration bounces between you. Viktor’s hair is dishevelled, falling into his eyes, and his shirt has found its way half-out of his pants, a few buttons undone. He stares at the pages in front of him, his expression a mixture of exhaustion and determination. You glance over at him, hoping for a breakthrough.

“Any ideas?” you ask, your voice tinged with a hint of desperation.

Viktor groans and rubs his eyes, his shoulders sagging. “You know what… I think I’m getting old too,” he mutters, dropping his hand to your lap. “Can we get back to it when I’ve had at least two hours of sleep?”

He looks at you, his hand settling on your knee absentmindedly, his fingers warm through the fabric of your clothes. You stare at his hand for a moment, before looking up at him. He seems so tired, but also so… beautiful. His rumpled clothes and tousled hair remind you of the boy you loved.

“Sure,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. You look at him, really look at him. He’s always been handsome, but tonight you can finally see how much time has passed. The wrinkles carving his face deeper, jaw stronger, singular grey strands shining through the chestnut hair. Eyes the same. He doesn’t look like a boy anymore.

Wordlessly, you move closer to him and his gaze doesn’t falter. You cup his cheeks and brush your thumb over his lip. And then, your mouth comes close to his, into a soft brush, trembling and tentative. And Viktor responds with a hand sliding up your thigh and a tilt of his head. He cranes his neck and closes the little distance left between you with a sigh of relief.

His free hand slides up to your neck, pulling you in as his mouth parts and tongue joins to wrestle with yours. He gasps when you bite his lower lip and hums, as his palm slides behind to cup your ass. Fully in his grasp, he press yourself more onto him, fingers tangling into his hair, coaxing small sounds out of his throat. It’s wet and slow and when you peek through your eyelashes his brows are scrunched and a blush blooms down his neck to his chest.

He doesn’t kiss like a boy anymore, you think to yourself. It comes unbidden and warms your insides up.

The taste of him lingers on your lips as you pull away just a fraction, your breaths mingling. You barely have a moment to think before Viktor kisses you back, deeply, hoarse inhale taken straight from your lungs leaves you dizzy.

***

Viktor had walked you back to your dorm after a late-night study session at the library. His pace was slow, almost reluctant, as if he was trying to figure out what to say before you parted ways. You were too tired to wait for him to find the words, your mind still foggy from hours of studying.

“I guess this is goodn—” you started, but before you could finish the word, his lips were on yours. The kiss came out of nowhere, abrupt and clumsy, pressing you back into the door behind you. For a moment, you froze, your tired mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

Then, the realization sank in, and the sound that left your lips transformed from startled surprise to a soft moan. You responded without thinking, hands sliding up Viktor's sides, feeling the warmth of his body as you kissed him back.

He dropped his cane, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. His touch was urgent, hands cradling your back and drawing you in as you ran your fingers through his hair. Feeling your response, he grew bolder, shut his eyes and concentrated on drawing deep breaths through his nose to not have to part from you.

Hands everywhere, as if he couldn’t decide what to do. You nearly laughed when she squeezed your butt quickly, only to go back to your waist, slide into your ribs and then to the small of your back. So feverish.

When the oxygen run out, he broke the kiss but still kept you close. “I wanted to do this for the longest time,” he chuckled into your mouth.

***

He gives himself a good-willed push off the couch’s armrest but ends up trapping your hip beneath his. His face scrunches in worry when you hiss, but the sound quickly transforms into a laugh. When your stomach shakes beneath him, Viktor feels a strange swelling in his chest. This is so familiar.

He looks at you longingly, sliding his fingers into your hair. Your laughter dies into a moan when his groin presses between your legs. His tongue grows more eager now, as if he remembers just how much he used to want you. “Fuck, I’ve missed you,” he breathes against your lips, and you respond by fisting his shirt, nearly tearing it. You try to say you’ve missed him too—fuck, how much you’ve missed him every day—but you can’t, because your mouth is full.

You brace yourself on your elbows, meeting him halfway. You’re not sure you can bear to part long enough for him to take your clothes off, so instead, you take his hands and press them to your ass. He accepts, of course, kneading your flesh in rhythm with his breath.

When you finally straddle him, your fingers move to undo the rest of his shirt. That’s when he stills. His palms come up to wrap around yours, and a quiet plea escapes him. “Wait,” he says weakly, his cock already hard—you’re sure this costs him a lot.

“Whatever for?” you ask, nosing at his face before pressing kisses to his cheeks, his closed eyelids. You untangle your fingers from his and wrap your arms around his neck.

“I should show you something first,” he murmurs, and begins to undo his shirt. You lean back to give him space to sit up, but your hips never leave his, and your eyes never look away from his face. You give him the room he needs, and feel unbearably not close enough.

***

You fought with the doorknob to your bedroom for a hot minute. Viktor, being very distracting, had completely derailed your brain from this simple dexterity task with continuous neck-licking and ear-kissing. He kept smirking against your skin, all cocky and pleased with himself, ever since the moment you’d asked, “Do you want to come in?”

You stumbled into the room together, and his fingers immediately shot to your vest. You hadn’t even blinked properly before it was undone, his hands cupping your breasts through your shirt, his cane hooked over his forearm.

Laughing and snorting at his clumsiness, you’d steadied him by the waist and let him walk you backward toward the bed.

Your hands fumbled at the buttons of his shirt, but they were small and stubborn, and you were too impatient. With a frustrated huff, you abandoned the effort and slid your hands over his shoulders instead. “Arms up,” you ordered, and Viktor chuckled as he complied.

He lifted his arms obediently, but as you dragged his shirt over his head, it caught for a moment, tangling around his face. He let out a muffled laugh, flailing slightly as you tugged it free, and the moment he was loose, he lost his balance. He tumbled backward onto the bed with an oof, propping himself up on his elbows as he grinned up at you.

You stepped between his legs, watching as his expression softened, turning almost reverent. His hands found your waist, fingers brushing deliberately over the fabric of your skirt before he slid it down, letting it pool at your feet. His lips followed the motion, pressing a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your stomach before he rested his chin there, gazing up at you.

He cradled your hips, thumbs stroking lazily over your skin. “Are you sure this is what you want?” he asked, his voice quiet, careful.

You nodded, eager, and leaned down to kiss him, pouring every answer he could ever need into the press of your lips.

***

“There is both more and less to me than there used to be,” Viktor says, rubbing slow, thoughtful circles up and down your thighs. His expression is pensive, and an apology lingers somewhere in his voice. You hate that he feels the need to apologise in the first place.

Your touch slides across his chest, down—down the leather ridges of a brace you’ve never seen before. It screams Jayce Talis with every bolt, every stitch, and your heart aches at the thought that you weren’t here when this was happening.

Your eyes dart between his chest and his lips before you finally nestle deeper against his pelvis, wrap your arms back around his neck, and crush your mouth to his in a kiss that weeps remorse. “You beautiful, beautiful man,” you whisper, pressing your face into his. “How are you so brave?”

You cup his cheeks, and he only smiles, covering your palm with his.

“I’m not brave. I just… survived,” Viktor says with a small shrug. Then, after a pause: “Would you like to help me take them off?”

You nod, eager, and lean down to kiss him, pouring all the fragmented pieces of yes into the press of your lips.

***

Viktor rolled with you across the sheets, his hands skimmed up your sides, warm and eager, fingers pressing into your skin like he was trying to memorise the feel of you. Your mouths met again, lips parting, tongues teasing—lazy and deep, now that you had each other finally.

He pulled you closer, your thighs bracketing his hips, and when you reached down, fingers curling into the waistband of his trousers, he let out a shaky breath. You grinned against his mouth, tugging them lower inch by inch, letting your nails drag over his skin just to hear the quiet little sounds he made in response. Finally, with one last playful yank, you pulled them off entirely, giggling when they got caught at his ankles for a moment before slipping free.

And then you saw it—his brace.

Viktor stiffened immediately. His hands twitched at his sides, and he turned his head slightly, as if he wanted to look anywhere but at you. "It’s nothing," he muttered, voice quieter than before. "You don’t have to—"

You reached out, your palm settling gently on his leg. "Viktor," you said softly, your touch firm but tender. His gaze flicked back to yours, guarded, unsure. "You are so beautiful."

He gasped, a sound so quiet you might not have caught it if you weren’t so close. His lips parted slightly, eyes searching yours like he wasn’t sure if he’d heard you right.

You didn’t give him time to argue. Instead, you leaned down, pressing a slow, deliberate kiss to his thigh, just above the brace. He shivered beneath you. Carefully, you undid the clasps, your fingers working with quiet reverence, peeling away the brace as if unveiling something sacred.

It left behind faint indentations in his skin—lines and ridges pressed deep from the whole day of wear. You kissed each one, your lips trailing over the marks with the same care you’d give any other part of him. Viktor’s breath hitched, his fingers threading into the sheets, gripping tight.

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, barely above a whisper, he breathed, "You undo me."

***

You set the last metal part of Viktor aside, and now, finally—after years of longing—you see him. His legs are parted, eternal bruises marking his thigh and knee, the toes of one foot cramped closer together than the other. His ribs bear pearly little scars where the chest brace has caught against his skin.

His cock rests idly in the crease of his thigh, beautiful as ever—pink at the tip, his navel scattered with curly hair that meets in a neat line just below his belly button. His hips are sharp angles, his belly rising and falling with each breath. You take in this adult man’s body and compare it to the boy you fell in love with. And you are sure now—there is only more to him than there used to be.

You step between his legs, and his arms reach out, fingers tracing a scar on your lower abdomen. He hums, “This is new.”

“You should see the other guy,” you murmur playfully. “A machine malfunctioned at the lab. One of the energy conductors went unstable, and before I could shut it down, a piece of metal sliced me open.” You pause, watching his face tense. “I got lucky.”

Viktor brushes his thumb over the scar tissue before lowering his lips, pressing a kiss to it—slow, reverent. “My brave girl,” he mutters against your skin. Your head lulls back on your shoulders, fingers threading into his hair and you let out a sigh.

You shudder when he presses a delicate touch between your legs. His hand, more calloused than you remember, gathers the curve of your inner thigh—but oh, his fingers still feel the same. The same timid swipe across your core, the same quiet hum of approval at the wetness you've gathered for him. Then, his free arm comes to wrap around your hips, pulling you closer as he presses his ear to your belly and slides two fingers inside you.

More skill, you notice. A pang of jealousy coils in your chest—ugly, unnecessary—but you don’t let him see. He kisses your stomach, and his eyelashes tickle your skin as he moves his hand up and down and his fingers hit the spot that has you moaning out his name. “As tight as I remember,” he hums, and it lances through you how infinitely hotter he has become.

You tug at his hair to make him look at you. Two gold gems drill right through you when you say, “Viktor.” A sigh, then, “I think I really need to fuck you now.”

He smiles sweetly and kisses your stomach again. “Then it seems we are on the same page.”

***

After a lot of fumbling, adjusting, and whispered curses, you finally found what worked. Viktor propped his knee up with a pillow, his other leg hooked under yours, grounding you together. His weight pressed you into the mattress—not crushing, just enough to make you feel him everywhere, warm and steady.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and measured, his arm caging you in as he kissed you through it. The heat of his breath spilled over your mouth, his lips parting just enough to let out the quietest of moans. And even in the haze of pleasure, you could see it—the determination tightening his brow, the concentrated press of his mouth against yours. He was on a mission, and that mission was you.

One arm wound snugly around your neck, cradling you into him, while his other hand worked between your legs, fingers slick and diligent. He timed each stroke with the snap of his hips, coaxing you closer, closer—

“Oh—Viktor—”

The sound of your voice shattered something in him. His rhythm stuttered, his forehead dropped to yours, but his fingers didn’t stop, circling, pressing, working you toward your peak. You dug your nails into his back, rocking up to meet him, and then—

It rushed over you like a cresting wave. Your thighs tensed around his waist, your breath caught, and the pleasure crested so high it stole all thought. He moaned softly, watching, feeling every pulse of your release around him.

His movements became less controlled, needier, a touch more frantic. He groaned against your shoulder, muttered something in a language you barely caught, and then followed you over the edge. His body trembled against yours, hips stuttering, breath shaky as he spilled into you, his lips still parted against your skin.

For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds in the room were your slowing breaths, the faint creak of the mattress, and the heartbeat pounding in your ears.

Then, Viktor finally lifted his head, flushed, sweat-dampened curls clinging to his forehead. He swallowed hard, his expression abashed but glowing with something warm and dazed.

“I hope that at this point, it is merely a formality,” he said, still breathless. “But… may I be so bold as to call you my girlfriend from now on?”

***

Your hips slot back together as if no time has passed. He fills you the same way, stretches you perfectly, and the expression he makes as he sinks in—God, it’s the same. Crushingly fucking gorgeous. Relief and bliss war on his face, his lips parting around a shaky groan as his hands seize your ass, pulling you down fully with a sharp slap of skin against skin.

He nuzzles into your neck, breath heavy and warm, licks up the column of your throat before sinking his teeth into your tendon. You gasp, moan, and pull at his hair, and the low, satisfied hum he gives in response shoots straight through you. His grip on your hips tightens, thumbs pressing into your skin as he guides you into motion, dragging you up before urging you back down. A faint roll of his own hips meets yours with every descent, his restraint slipping as the pleasure builds.

It doesn’t take long for you to notice—he’s changed. There’s more confidence in the way he moves, the way he takes from you, the way he talks to you. His voice is deeper, richer, words curling into your skin like smoke.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, dark and approving. He drags a hand up your spine, settles it at your nape, tilting your head so you do look—so you watch the way he devours you with his eyes. “You take me so well, lásko.”

Heat spreads down to your toes. You try to bite back a whimper, but he sees it, hears it, and smirks. Smirks, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

Oh, he’s so much bolder now. And you’re falling apart because of it.

It starts with the way he tilts his hips just right, the way his grip on you tightens like he knows exactly where you need him. His free hand glides down your spine, tracing sweat-slick skin before slipping between your bodies. Two fingers find your clit, and your breath stutters. He circles once, twice—slow and deliberate—before pressing down, firm and unrelenting.

“Come for me,” he murmurs, voice like silk, like sin. He rewards you with a deep thrust, dragging a broken moan from your throat. “Let me feel you.”

You do—oh, God, you do. Pleasure overtakes you, crashing through your body in waves, pulling you under. Your thighs shake around him, your hands fly to his shoulders, nails sinking into muscle as you arch and shudder and keen his name. He groans, eyes dark and reverent as he watches you unravel in his lap.

Yet still, there are things that haven’t changed. The way his breath hitches when you clench around him. The way his moans turn desperate when you lean forward and suck at his throat. The way he starts to chase the pleasure once he gets close, gripping you tighter, rutting up into you with a fervour that makes your head spin.

And the way he comes—the same shudder, the same deep, gasping moan, the same way his arms crush you against his chest as if he could pull you inside him. His release spills deep, his body trembling beneath yours, and you realise it then, as you always have.

He is grateful for this. For you.

Your noses brush as he catches his breath, and his hands smooth over your back, grounding himself in the feel of you.

“Still with me?” you murmur, running your fingers through his damp curls.

Viktor exhales a breathless laugh, lids heavy, lips parted in something like awe. He nods, shifting just enough to press a lingering kiss to your collarbone. “Always.”

[inubaki]

I’m Not Sorry For Lovin’ You

-wings-Adamsapplefluffweek

———-

Someone arrived today They said they're taking you away

That you're not mine to save And soon I won't get to see your face

So I came by to say You're unlike anyone I have ever known

'Cause you're all I've ever known

And if I pushed you Or if I came on too strong

Or if I ambushed you

For that, I'll say I was wrong

And if you hate me Then I am sorry my love's too much for you

But I'm not sorry for loving you

I'm not sorry for loving you

I'm not sorry for loving you

I'm not sorry for loving you

“Luci…”

Let me speak

I spent my whole life here

Was cast away when I was young

Alone for a hundred years

I had no friends but the sky and sun

So when you washed ashore

I thought for sure that you were my dream come true

I thought I knew

So if I pushed you

Or if I came on too strong

Or if I ambushed you

For that, I'll say I was wrong

And if you hate me Then I am sorry my love's too much for you Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh

But I'm not sorry for loving you

I'm not sorry for loving you I'm not sorry for loving you I'm not sorry for loving you

… I'm not sorry

I'm angry and tired and restless and sad

I'm stuck in the moments I swore that we had

I wish you would chase me Or try to embrace me

For once, I wish you would lie and say

“I love you”

… You do?

“ … But not in the way that you want me to”

… I hate that I fell in love with you Hate that I fell in love with you Why did I fall in love with you? Why did I fall in love with you? What do I do with this love for you?

How am I supposed to get over you? How am I supposed to get over you? Why in the world won't you love me too

————-

This concept idea seems from the idea that after Adam dies he’s pushed back into a separate timeline. In which Lucifer was deemed to strong to be left in hell, instead, stuck into a separate pocket dimension on an early concept of Eden.

For there he lingers, never having met the humans nor partaken the apple. He has no concept of Adam’s past, only drawing from his injuries that he’s like him. Abandoned and alone.

He’s eager to know him, touch, talk, love and bond, but Adam holds all the memories in which Lucifer resists him. He doesn’t want to get close to Lucifer, struggling to find a way to escape. But when he starts to feel the pull of shared isolation. Lucifer falls for him, but Adam is to wary to believe it.

But still pulls for Lucifer to join in finding a way out. (The colors are Adam and Lucifer losing stature the closer join together)

it’s not my favorite. But I had fun and it helps me through the worse of my illness.

Based off @marthaluvsya’s post and a song from Epic

I’ve been sick these last few days but I really wanted to finish this. Mainly to show that I could go myself.

[starrbar]

Thanks for the tag x3 Sorry it took me so long to get to it haha. I'll highlight characters in red if I had a lot to say about multiples in one answer.

Favorite girl: I think I'd say Jinx because I love her character. All her scenes in S1 are compelling and tense, and I found her to be thoroughly tragic by the end. She's the thread that holds everything else together and it's beautiful. Also Ambessa and Sevika are both super hot and I always look forward to seeing them.

Favorite boy: I like boys. O_O My favorites are Silco, Singed, and Viktor. Silco is one of my favorite villain characters, very layered and complex, and I was genuinely intrigued and excited as I learned more of his story in S1. I'm also totally guilty of mega-simping for him in S2 despite how my opinions of the story would later sour. Singed honestly just has a fantastic voice and animation that hits me the same way Rango's animation does, where "ugly" characters are treated with such care that they're a treat to watch anyway. He's so stimulating aaaa. Finally, Viktor's arc in S1 is one of my favorites, handled patiently and expertly, and his arc in S2 has quite a few problems, but I still... really enjoy seeing him, and seeing him with Jayce, so I don't tend to be bothered by how S2 handled Viktor.

Least favorite character: You know what? I was so close to posting this with "S2 Caitlyn" because she's a nasty person who never gets to have a proper arc in any direction, but I think a more fitting answer would be S2 Vi. Caitlyn being an awful person in some scenes was still interesting and believable, if a bit rushed, and I would have been fine with her character going that path had it been executed a bit better. Vi, though, is just... turned into a sad lapdog who doesn't act on her own at any point and is just depressing to watch, even in her "happy" moments. God damn, they destroyed her this season. ><

Favorite ships: Zaundads, Sinco, JayVik, and Jilco. If I elaborated on each, I'd feel like I spent way too much time on this, but they each have dynamics I enjoy for different reasons.

Least favorite ship: S2 Caitvi. They were cute in S1, but S2 made Caitlyn an abusive war criminal and then pretended that didn't need to be properly addressed before Vi just gave herself to her. Blegh.

Favorite side character: Lately, it's Salo because I like em pathetic ahaha~ I've always loved Mylo too, adorable little Junkrat kid. x3c

Favorite songs: Oooooh this is a hard one. x3 Goodbye and What Could Have Been will always hit me so hard and remind me how watching Arcane for the first time felt, and for that, they're extra special. I think Playground still gives me those vibes too. I also adore Guns For Hire, and Dirty Little Animals goes so hard. S2 introduced quite a few songs I love too. Ashes and Blood, Renegade, and Spin the Wheel are favorites. Favorite score songs are: The Bridge, The City of Progress, You're Stronger Than You Think, You Can't Escape the Past, A Story of Opposites, Stubborn to the End, I Can Help Them, The Era of Hextech, Revenge, You're a Jinx, A Bicentennial, The Assailant, Romance, Traitor, She's Back, The Toy Boat, I'm Right Here, Showdown, First Steps, You're Perfect, and I'm far less familiar with S2's score, but I can't stop listening to I Promised You. <3

Favorite episode: S1 episode 3. There are tons of scenes I love throughout the story, but this episode marked one of the greatest experiences I've ever had watching a show.

Least favorite episode: So like... I'm not entirely sure which entire episode is my least favorite, so it might be easier to list "chunks", like all the Mel/Black Rose stuff is a boring waste of time to me, and all the final battle stuff is like... uuuuugh. But I didn't just wanna say s2 episode 9 because I do still like the Jayce and Viktor stuff even if, critically, I don't think most of it makes sense x'D. Those two are legit just a guilty pleasure this season and I'm okay with that.

Favorite duo: Oooooh, mmmm..... I think Jayce and Viktor fit the term "duo" best out of my favorites. My other fave is Jinx and Silco, even though they basically never work together, but their interactions are priceless. <3

Favorite design: Aaaaa so many good ones, ummm... honestly? Powder is one of my favorite characters to watch and her design is adorable and complex (a lot of characters are complex in design, but ye). I really love the mismatched look of a lot of Zaun outfits. Also past Silco is um, I'm locking him in my basement. >u>

Least favorite design: Hm... so... I don't think I've looked at any design and hated it, just felt like a few of them were kinda... not as appealing to me as previous versions. So, I prefer Ambessa's pre-S2A3 designs, and I think it's because she looks too slender in her final look compared to previous ones making her look so big and imposing. I think Jinx's newest design is... overrated and kind of messy to look at. I know she's a messy character, so that would fit, but I dunno, there's something missing or... something. It's also hard not to let my feelings on the story taint my feelings for some of the designs, like Vi and Caitlyn's, which look pretty damn cool actually, but I just always picture that final cuddly scene with them and it makes me feel icky.

Favorite scene: The Guns For Hire sequence ✨

Least favorite scene: The Silco, Vander, and Felicia flashback because it ruins the motivations of Silco and Vander, not just to adopt their kids, but to free Zaun from Piltover's oppressive hold. Felicia is pretty and even has some fun sassiness to her personality, but I want her far away from my boys.

I don't like this ending on a negative, so Imma add one more question myself:

Favorite visual moment: Of course, I can hardly pick less than a dozen, but I'll just list a couple off the top of my head, not counting previously mentioned stuff of course. I love the scene of the mage saving young Jayce and his mother. It's so gorgeous and fluid and the music adds so much too. Gahhhh- I also super love that shot of Silco leaning back while smoking right after he talks to Marcus.

I'm always bad at tagging, so just like, do it if you feel like! 8D

On tiktok there was this arcane trend that was just about stating some basic arcane opinions of yours and I thought it would be fun to do something similar here! You can tag others and make it a tagging game or you can just answer the questions do what you want :)

Favorite girl:

Favorite boy:

Least favorite character:

Favorite ship:

Least favorite ship:

Favorite side character:

Favorite song:

Favorite episode:

Least favorite episode:

Favorite duo:

Favorite design:

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Favorite scene:

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