#and it's scary it's fucking terrifying and I don't know what the fuck I'm doing and all I am doing is spiraling really badly

[emjayewrites]

in between the lines • jules kounde (4/4)

SYNOPSIS: At Zuri’s engagement party, Senait meets her best friend’s fiancé, Aurélien, and his friend, Jules. A spontaneous hookup with Jules sparks undeniable chemistry, but when Senait ghosts him afterward, she finds herself wrestling with her insecurities as the casual fling begins shifting into something deeper.

PAIRINGS: Jules Koundé x Senait Kiros (@/subanbrn)

WARNINGS: football b.s., cursing, smut, drama, mentions of cheating/past relationships, dominant!jules, instant attraction/fast development. MINORS DNI (18+)

TAGLIST: @trenterprise @f1-football-fiend @lettersofgold @hopefulromantic1 @deonn-jaelle @vile-harlot @perfecttrashface @queenshikongo3 @2serenity0 @saturnville @sinflowersugar @hotfudgeslug @muglermami @serpenttines-library @sucredreamer @julescpu @greyishbach @shelovesfootie @certifiedlesbianbaddie @trinitoldyouso @greedyjudge2 @peyiswriting @127hydrangeas @rosiesdior @whoevenisthiz

A/N: Gif by @doinggreat

Not having a return flight felt both terrifying and exhilarating. Senait lay in Jules' bed, watching shadows play across the ceiling as sunlight filtered through the curtains. Her phone hadn't buzzed with work emergencies for the first time in three years. No crisis meetings, no client demands, no Greg's passive-aggressive emails.

Just... freedom.

Scary, overwhelming freedom.

Jules had insisted she take the day to rest, popping in between his training sessions to check on her. Each time he'd find a different way to make her smile – bringing her favorite snacks, curling around her for quick naps, even convincing Maurice to perform an impromptu concert.

"You're hovering," she'd accused during one such visit.

"I'm caring," he'd corrected, pressing a kiss to her temple before heading back to training.

Now, as evening slowly approached, Senait could smell something amazing wafting from the kitchen. She found Jules at the stove, looking so sexy in sweatpants and a t-shirt.

"Sit," he commanded, nodding toward the counter. "I have something for you."

"Jules..."

But he was already pulling out a carefully wrapped package. Inside, Senait found a collection of high-end calligraphy supplies – inks, nibs, and papers she'd only dreamed of working with.

"I did some research," Jules said, watching her face. "These are the good ones, right?"

Senait ran her fingers over the supplies, emotion catching in her throat. "They're perfect. But Jules, I can't—"

"Let me help," he interrupted softly. "Not because you need it, but because I want to. Because I believe in you."

She kissed him then, trying to pour all her gratitude and confusion and hope into it. Jules responded immediately, pulling her closer, deepening the kiss until they were both breathless.

"So," he murmured against her lips, "when are you going to make an honest man out of me?"

Senait froze. "What?"

Jules pulled back slightly, studying her face. "We've known each other for almost two months. Things are moving fast – which I'm not complaining about – but maybe it's time to make it official."

"I... I just quit my job," Senait stammered. "And now you want..."

"A commitment? Yes." His hands stayed on her waist, grounding her even as panic fluttered in her chest. "Why does that scare you so much?"

"Because!" She pulled away, needing space to think. "Everything's changing so fast. I need... I need to figure things out first."

"Like what?"

"Like therapy," she admitted quietly. "Like dealing with these walls I've built. Like not fucking this up because I'm too scared to let anyone in."

"You're so fucking stubborn," Jules said, but there was fondness mixed with his frustration. "You think I don't see your walls? Your fears? I'm still here, Senait."

"I know." She wrapped her arms around herself. "And I want... I want to try. With you. But I need to do this right. I need to work on myself first."

Jules was quiet for a long moment. Then: "Okay."

"Okay?"

"Go to therapy. Work on yourself." He stepped closer, tucking a curl behind her ear. "I'll be here. But don't use it as an excuse to keep running."

Senait leaned into his touch. "I'm trying not to."

"I know, chérie." He kissed her forehead. "Now eat before the food gets cold."

_______________________________________________

Madrid held different memories for Senait now – her first visit for Zuri's engagement party months ago felt like another lifetime compared to being here for El Clásico. The energy around the match was electric, filling every corner of the city.

She met Zuri in the hotel lobby, where her friend was waiting with a woman Senait instantly recognized from social media – Lila Hamilton.

"Finally!" Zuri exclaimed, hugging Senait. "You guys didn’t get the chance to meet at the engagent party but Lila, this is my best friend, Senait. Sen, meet Lila – Lewis' sister and Jude's better half."

Lila's smile was warm, her British accent elegant as she said, "Heard so much about you. Zuri says you're the one who finally tamed Jules?"

"I wouldn't say tamed," Senait laughed. "More like... reached a mutual understanding."

"With Jules?" Lila raised an eyebrow. "That's practically the same thing."

The three women clicked immediately. Senait found herself drawn to Lila's dry humor and genuine warmth. It was clear why she and Zuri had become such close friends – they shared the same straightforward approach to life.

"So you're actually supporting Barcelona?" Lila asked as they made their way to the Bernabéu, noting Senait's scarf. "Brave, considering you're walking in with two Madrid supporters."

"Trust me, I'm as surprised as you are," Senait admitted. "But apparently I have... priorities."

"Jules being one of them?" Zuri teased.

"Jules being the only one," Lila corrected with a knowing smile.

The Santiago Bernabéu was a different beast than the Olympic Stadium. Senait felt the electricity in the air, the tension between the two sets of fans palpable even as she followed Zuri and Lila to their seats.

"Ready for your first Clásico?" Lila asked, adjusting her Real Madrid scarf.

Senait fingered her own scarf – one of Jules' that she'd stolen despite her protests about not being a "football girlfriend." But here she was, heart racing every time she caught sight of him warming up on the pitch.

The match itself was intense. Senait found herself on her feet more often than not, shouting things she barely understood but feeling them deeply. When Jules made a particularly brilliant play, she screamed his name without thinking, earning knowing smirks from both Zuri and Lila.

Barcelona's dominance was clear from the start. Each goal felt like a physical rush, the away section erupting in celebration. Senait watched Jules' confident movements, the way he controlled the midfield, and felt a surge of pride she wasn't quite ready to examine.

By the time the final whistle blew at 0-4, Senait's voice was hoarse from shouting. She linked arms with Zuri and Lila as they made their way down the stadium steps, the Barcelona fans' victory chants echoing around them.

"Never thought I'd see the day," Zuri teased, nudging her. "You really are Jules' number one fan now, huh?"

Senait rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress her smile. "Don't get used to it. It's a one-time thing," she quipped, though she couldn't help glancing toward the tunnel where the players would emerge.

The wait seemed endless. Senait watched as Aurélien appeared first, his disappointment evident despite his dignified bearing. Zuri immediately went to him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. Then Jude, his frustration clear as Lila quietly led him away.

And then Jules – still radiating that quiet confidence she'd come to associate with him, his eyes finding her immediately in the crowd. Heat pooled in her belly at the look he gave her, pride and possession and promise all mixed together.

"Enjoyed the show?" he asked, pulling her close despite her token protest about his sweaty state.

"You were adequate," she deadpanned, but her smile gave her away.

Back at the hotel room later, a celebration took a more private turn. Jules had her pressed against the door almost before it closed, his hands possessive on her hips.

"Been wanting to do this since I saw you in my scarf," he growled against her neck.

"Is that why you let me steal it?" Senait gasped as his teeth found a sensitive spot. "Part of your master plan?"

"Everything's part of my master plan, chérie."

And maybe it was. Maybe this had all been inevitable from the moment she'd met his eyes at Zuri's engagement party. Maybe all her running had just been delaying the inevitable.

Later, curled into his side, pleasantly sore and completely satisfied, Senait traced patterns on his chest. "I made an appointment," she said quietly.

Jules' hand paused in her hair. "For therapy?"

She nodded. "Found someone who specializes in relationship trauma. She's got great reviews."

"I'm proud of you." He pressed a kiss to her temple. "When?"

"Next week. Virtual session." She propped herself up to look at him. "Is that okay? Me staying in Barcelona but..."

"Working on yourself?" He smiled. "More than okay. Though I warn you – Maurice might try to join your sessions. He's very interested in psychology."

Senait laughed, the sound free and genuine. "Your rooster is a menace."

"Our rooster."

She tensed slightly at that, but not in fear. More in... anticipation. Because 'our' didn't sound as scary as it used to.

"One step at a time," Jules murmured, clearly reading her reaction. "No pressure. Just... possibility."

Senait settled back against him, letting his heartbeat steady her. "I like possibilities."

"Good." His hand resumed its gentle stroking of her hair. "Because I have quite a few in mind."

As she drifted off to sleep, Senait thought about how different this felt from every other relationship she'd had. How Jules pushed without pressuring, supported without suffocating. How he saw her walls but didn't try to break them down – just waited patiently for her to build doors instead.

Maybe that's what real love was supposed to feel like. Not the desperate clinging she'd had with Tymir, not the constant fear of not being enough. But this – this steady warmth, this gentle strength, this quiet certainty that whatever came next, they'd face it together.

One step at a time.

Two weeks after El Clásico, Senait sat cross-legged in Jules' home office, laptop balanced on her knees, finalizing another custom wedding signage order. Maurice strutted past the window, the speakers nearby playing what she swore was Vivaldi.

"Your taste in music is getting crazy, my guy," she called out to the rooster, who merely preened in response.

Her Etsy notifications kept pinging – the surge in orders since quitting her job felt almost cosmic. The universe's way of saying "about time" perhaps. She'd spent the morning researching web designers, knowing her business needed a proper site. Her makeshift Instagram business account already had a decent following, helped by Zuri's subtle promotions to her now-massive audience.

The call with her parents had been full of "I told you so" energy, but the loving kind. "See what happens when you finally listen to your mother?" her mom had teased. They were happy to see her actually living her life instead of just surviving it, even if that life currently involved a French footballer and living with him on a different continent.

The therapy sessions were helping too. Dr. Obazi had a way of making Senait see patterns she'd been blind to. "You're not afraid of success," she'd said in their first session. "You're afraid of deserving it."

That had hit home hard.

So had finally blocking Tymir on everything. She'd hesitated over the button for a moment, years of history making her finger pause. Then she'd remembered his comment on her photo, his casual assumption that he still had the right to her attention.

Click. Done.

"Better late than never," she'd muttered, and felt lighter immediately.

The past weekend in Paris had been surreal. Jules' friend Axel had thrown an elaborate Halloween party, and she'd found herself swept into Jules' inner circle. His Dracula costume had been simple but effective – all black with a dramatic cape and subtle fangs. She'd matched him as his bride, in a flowing white dress with intricate lace details, dark makeup, and artfully messy curls.

"We have the most predictable costumes," she'd teased.

"Sexy," he'd corrected, eyes darkening as he took in her outfit.

Meeting his friends had been surprisingly easy. Axel, with his easy charm and quick wit. Wilhelm, quieter but sharp as a tack. Hugo and Manuel, who treated her like they'd known her forever.

"So you're the one who's got Jules actually answering his phone," Hugo had teased.

"Someone has to keep him in line," she'd shot back, earning appreciative laughs.

The party had been a blur of expensive champagne and elaborate costumes. Jules had kept her close all night, his hands growing increasingly possessive as the alcohol flowed. What happened back in their hotel room... Senait felt heat rise to her cheeks just thinking about it. Jules, it turned out, was even more commanding when drunk, and she'd been more than happy to submit to his... demands.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from the memory: The guys want to come over to watch game footage. That okay?

S: As riveting as that sounds... J: You can work in the office. Just want you near.

Simple. Direct. So Jules.

S: Fine. But I'm not watching football. J: You watched every minute of El Clásico. S: That was different. J: Because you're my biggest fan?

Senait smiled, remembering Zuri's teasing about the same thing. I'm hanging up now.

J: This is a text. S: Goodbye, Jules. J: See you in a bit, chérie.

A notification pinged – another order. A massive corporate client wanting custom place cards for their holiday party. The kind of order that could fund a proper website, maybe even a small studio space.

She was settling into a routine she'd never planned but couldn't imagine living without. Mornings with Maurice's concerts, days split between calligraphy work and exploring the city, evenings with Jules that usually ended tangled in his sheets.

Barcelona was beginning to feel like home. Her favorite café knew her order. The local art supply store kept her preferred inks in stock. Even Maurice had accepted her as part of his audience.

More than that, she was happy. Actually, genuinely happy. The kind of happiness that came from choosing yourself, from letting people in, from building something real.

She glanced around Jules' office – now unofficially hers too during work hours. Her calligraphy supplies had their own drawer, her laptop had a permanent spot on the desk, and she'd even added some plants to the space. Small changes that spoke of bigger ones.

The sound of the front door opening announced Jules' return. Soon the house would be full of his teammates, their animated conversations filling the space as they analyzed game footage. She'd pretend to be completely focused on work, but would probably end up watching anyway, just like she always did.

This was her life now. Not the one she'd planned, not the safe corporate path she'd thought she needed to follow. Instead, she had a growing business, a weekly therapy appointment, and a man who knew exactly when to push and when to be patient.

Jules appeared in the doorway of the office, fresh from training with slightly damp dreads. Just looking at him made something warm unfurl in Senait's chest – a feeling she was slowly learning not to fight.

"Hi," he said simply, crossing to where she sat.

"Hi yourself." She tilted her head up for his kiss, meaning to keep it brief. But Jules had other ideas, deepening the kiss until she was breathless.

"The guys will be here soon," she murmured against his lips.

"Mm. Ten minutes." His hand slid into her hair. "More than enough time."

"To do what exactly?"

His smirk was wicked. "To properly greet you."

Before she could respond, he'd pulled her up from her chair, pressing her against the desk. His hands found her hips, lifting her to sit on the edge.

"Jules—"

"Let me just..." He stepped between her legs.

Jules’ lips traced a line down her neck, making Senait shiver as he teased the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. His fingers slipped under the hem of her shirt dress, pushing it higher up her thighs until he had a full view of the lace panties she’d chosen that morning. She opened her mouth to protest, but the words turned to a sigh as his hands gripped her waist tighter.

"Just a quick one," he whispered, his voice low and rough, sending a thrill down her spine. His eyes were dark with desire, and Senait found herself nodding, anticipation already pooling within her.

Jules stepped back just long enough to fish something out of his pants pocket. Senait couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up when she saw it: a condom.

"You planned this," she accused, her laughter fading into a gasp as he slipped his hands under her thighs, dragging her closer to the edge of the desk.

"Always prepared," he murmured with a grin, dropping both his pants and boxers to lay around his ankles and then ripping open the foil packet. As he sheathed himself, his gaze stayed locked on hers, filled with heat and mischief. Senait's pulse quickened, her body already humming in anticipation.

With a firm tug, he pulled her panties to the side, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of her. He didn’t waste a moment, pressing into her slowly, making her toes curl. Senait clutched at his shoulders, the edge of the desk digging into the back of her thighs as Jules began to move, setting a fast, relentless pace.

"Fuck," she whispered, her breath coming in short, needy gasps. Jules had her pinned in place, one hand splayed across her lower back to keep her steady, the other gripping her thigh. The slight roughness of his fingertips, the way he filled her so perfectly, had her clenching around him, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through her.

He leaned forward, his mouth brushing her ear. "You feel so fucking good, chérie," he groaned, the strain in his voice making her core tighten. The office was filled with the sounds of their rushed, desperate joining—the rhythmic slap of skin on skin, the creak of the desk beneath them, and the breathless, incoherent sounds that slipped from Senait’s lips.

Her fingers tangled in his damp hair, pulling him in for a kiss, desperate to muffle her own cries as the pressure built inside her. Jules responded eagerly, swallowing her moans, his rhythm never faltering. The intensity of it all—the risk of being caught, the wild passion in his eyes, the feeling of him claiming her—had her teetering on the edge faster than she expected.

"I’m close," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the rush of her heartbeat. Jules’ grip on her tightened, his hips snapping forward harder, his own breathing ragged.

"Let go for me," he urged, his voice thick with urgency. Senait’s body obeyed, pleasure exploding through her, making her shudder and cling to him as her climax washed over her. Jules followed soon after, his groan deep and satisfied as he buried himself in her one last time.

For a moment, they stayed like that, tangled together, breathing heavily. But the moment of bliss was broken by the sound of the doorbell ringing, echoing through the home.

"Shit," Senait whispered, her eyes wide. Jules pulled out of her with a grin, discarding the condom and adjusting his clothes swiftly.

"Go clean up," he said, smacking her ass as she wobbled off the desk, her legs still shaky. The playful sting of his hand made her yelp, and she shot him a glare over her shoulder.

"Asshole," she muttered, though she couldn’t keep the smile off her face. He just laughed, his expression smug and satisfied.

"Better hurry," he teased. "Don’t want the guys to see you looking all… well, like that."

Senait rolled her eyes, gathering herself and making her way out of the office and down the hallway. But the flush on her cheeks and the way her legs trembled with every step were undeniable reminders of what had just happened, and she couldn't stop the grin that spread across her lips.

In the bathroom, she caught sight of herself in the mirror – hair mussed, lips swollen, that unmistakable post-sex glow. The sound of voices grew louder – boisterous laughter as the guys settled in the living room.

After making herself presentable, Senait padded back to the office, settling in with her laptop. She tried to focus on her work, but found herself listening to Jules' voice among them, authoritative and sure as he discussed strategy.

This was her life now. And somehow, impossibly, it fit perfectly.

Sometimes Jules still couldn't believe how naturally Senait had integrated into his life. Watching her work in his home office, Maurice strutting past the window like a personal guard, felt right in a way he hadn't expected when this started.

Her therapy sessions were making a difference – he could see it in how she carried herself, how she was slowly letting her walls down. They weren't official yet, but he could wait. She was worth waiting for, worth giving time to heal and grow at her own pace.

"Ready?" she called from the office. They had errands to run – art supplies for her growing calligraphy business, orders to ship at the post office. Her Etsy shop was thriving, custom orders piling up faster than she could handle them.

The art supply store was their first stop. Jules watched as she carefully selected papers, inks, specialty pens. Her face lit up discussing different techniques with the shop owner, passionate in a way that made his chest warm. This was the Senait he loved seeing – confident, in her element, fully herself.

The post office queue wrapped around the building, but Jules didn't mind. Senait's arms were full of carefully wrapped packages – elaborate wedding signage, custom birthday installations, pieces that showcased her unique style. She'd worked late into the night finishing them, and watching her now, checking tracking numbers and insurance details, he felt overwhelmingly proud.

"Tu novia tiene mucho talento," the postal worker commented, admiring one of the visible designs. ("Your girlfriend's quite talented.”)

Jules didn't correct her assumption. Instead, he helped Senait balance the packages, stealing glances at her focused expression, the way she bit her lip while calculating shipping costs.

The sneaker store was where they slipped up. A small group of teenagers recognized him, eyes widening as they nudged each other. Jules tensed slightly – he was careful about public appearances, especially with Senait. His PR team had helped keep their relationship private, away from the football gossip machine.

"¿Te importaría una foto?" one boy asked nervously.

Jules glanced at Senait, who had already stepped back, understanding without words. He took a few quick pictures, signed some shoes, then they made their exit.

"Sorry about that," he said once they were in the car.

"Don't be. It's part of who you are."

Later, floating in his pool on one of his loungers, the Barcelona sun warm on their skin, Jules thought about Aurélien's text. His friend had been through hell with Zuri lately – family drama, media scrutiny, the works. The suggestion of a group trip to Megève had come with a note about needing peace, about wanting to share that peace with the people who'd supported them.

"Aurélien's planning a trip," Jules said, watching Senait's reaction carefully. "Megève in December. Him and Zuri, Jude and Lila. Thought we could join."

She turned in his arms, water droplets clinging to her eyelashes. "Sounds nice."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

Small steps, but progress nonetheless. Jules pressed a kiss to her temple, content just to have her here, in his pool, in his life. Two months ago, she might have balked at the idea of a couples' holiday. Now she was planning it with him, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Maurice's indignant crow from his enclosure made them both laugh. The rooster had taken to protesting when they used the pool, as if offended by their water activities.

"Your bird is jealous," Senait said, shifting to watch Maurice's dramatic display.

"Our bird," Jules corrected automatically, and smiled when he heard her hum noncommittally.

They stayed in the pool until the sun started to set, talking about everything and nothing. Her latest orders – a massive wedding installation that had her excited about the creative possibilities. His upcoming matches, training schedules, team dynamics.

It felt domestic in the best way. Like they'd been doing this forever, would keep doing it for years to come. Jules found himself imagining more moments like this – Senait in his space, planning futures together, Maurice providing the soundtrack to their life.

After showering and ordering dinner, they settled on his couch. Senait was sketching design ideas while Jules watched match footage, her feet in his lap, Maurice performing his evening concert in the background.

Even if she wasn't ready to name it yet, even if she still needed time to heal and trust and grow – Jules knew what this was. Knew that all the waiting, all the patience, all the careful steps forward would be worth it.

Looking at her now, completely absorbed in her sketches, wearing one of his t-shirts like it belonged to her, Jules felt something settle in his chest. A certainty that hadn't been there before.

This was it. She was it. Everything else was just details they'd figure out together.

THE END….epilogue coming soon…..

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[punkrockisafulltimejob]

Bleh

[harmonybarmy]

I've been over halloween in general thanks to 'valloween' and 'summerween' and y'all being incapable of moving on from literally anything...but we're coming upon the time where I have to see tiktoks of white girls going to spirit halloween to buy their little boring twink boyfriends ghostface masks to proudly announce to everyone how kinky they are and I've had it.

[snootlestheangel]

Drowning out my feelings with Dr. Pepper, falling back in love with Silence is Golden But Consequences Are Red, and thoughts of Mother Hen Wolf Shifter!Ghost

*rant in the tags if y'all want*

[running-in-the-dark]

I've gotta go to the dentist again tomorrow. I got two fillings done on Thursday but they feel really rough and it's hurting my tongue (plus my brain doesn't stop noticing something like that so I'm constantly aware of it and it's exhausting), so I've got to get that fixed.

this time I have to drive myself, so I can't take any Lorazepam. I'm pretty sure it's gonna be a quick visit anyway, at least this kind of thing has never taken long in the past, so. it should be fine, I know that. but I feel so shitty anyway. it's like the anxiety/fear is there right below the surface but it can't quite come out (probably thanks to the anxiety meds) so I just feel off all day. it sucks (though I much prefer this over the actual anxiety, that completely ruined the days leading up to anything like this).

[fragglerockopinions]

The worst thing about suffering is that it still hurts when the danger is over but no one cares about it anymore because it shouldn't hurt. No one will ever say "I'm sorry that happened to you" especially when they barely say "I'm sorry that's happening."

[rustycottoncandy]

Welp anxiety ain't behaving quite nice at all this year so wish me luck today

[redshiftsinger]

what the fuck what the fuck what the FUUUUUCCCCCKKKKK

What are dead man walking tornadoes? :O

it’s a multi-vortex tornado. i dont remember the tribe it originates from (i think it was cherokee), but there’s a native american legend…? saying? that goes “if you see a man in a tornado, you are about to die.”

the most infamous shot of a dead man walking tornado hit jarrell, texas in 1997

it did so much damage to the town it caused the scale that tornados are measured by, the fijita scale, undergo revisions, and it made anchoring buildings in the tornado alley region pretty much mandatory. (it took the entire town off the map. only those who had taken shelter outside of the town or in underground bunkers survived.)

two more examples of dead man walking tornadoes looking like a person are a tornado from 2011 that hit cullman, alabama

and a tornado from 1975 that hit xenia, ohio

[anaalnathrakhs]

literally the worst person alive 👍

[david-watts]

'it'll get better' how do I describe that it really does not

[lucyvaleheart]

.

[sensitivegoblin]

Is there anyone religious in the kink space?

I'm a Christian and I need to vent/get comfort cus I dunno what's wrong with me I'm dissociating so much and have so much anxiety and my head won't stop spinning about things

My dad says it's just anxiety hitting my body after being sick but I wish he could see inside my brain just to make sure I'm scared kinda :(

[mrfoox]

Me, barely clinging on mentally: no I am, OK haha, it's not so bad you know? Yeah I'm fine

[inkskinned]

what is with men being mad any time a woman raises her voice where did that even come from. someone posted a video of a small electrical explosion, and the top comment was of course the woman screams. the second comment is women try not to scream challenge, level impossible. i had to go back and watch the video again. there is, somewhat fainty, a little gasp emitted off-camera, more of a yelp than a scream. it is mostly lost in the crack of the explosion. afterwards, you hear her voice, shaken, say, are you okay?

i am helping one of my friends train her voice pitch lower, because she wants to be taken seriously at work. she and i do each other's nails and talk about gender roles; and how - due to our appearance - neither of us have ever been able to be "hysterical" in public. we both appear young and sweet and feminine. she is cisgender, and cannot use her natural voice in her profession because people keep saying she appears to be "vapid". we both try to figure out if our purposeful voice lowering is technically sexist. is it promoting something when you are a victim to it?

a storm almost sends a pole through a car window. in the dashcam, you can hear the woman passenger say her partner's name twice, crying out in alarm. she sounds terrified. in the comments, she is lambasted for her lack of calm. how is that even fucking helping?

in high school, i taught myself to have a lower voice. i had been recorded when i was genuinely (and righteously) upset; and i hated how my voice sounded on the phone speakers when it was played back. i was defending my mom, and my voice cracked with emotion. it meant i was no longer winning the argument: i was just shrieking about it.

girls meet each other after a long summer and let out a little joyful scream. this usually stops around 12-14, because people will not tolerate this display of affection (as it has the effect of being passingly annoying). something about the fact that little girls can't ever even be annoying. we are trained to examine each part of our lives (even joy) for anything that could make us upsetting and disgusting. they act like teenage girls are breaking into houses and shrieking you awake at 3 in the morning. speaking as a public school educator: trust me, it's not that bad, you can just roll your eyes and move on. it does not compare to the ways boys end up being annoying: slurs in graffiti, purposefully mocking your body, following you after you said no. you know, just boy things.

there's another video of a man who is not allowed to yell in the house, so he snaps his fingers when he's excited about soccer. the comments are full of angry men, talking about how their brother is unfairly caged. let him express himself and this is terrible to do to someone. eventually the couple has to address it in a second video: they are married with a newborn baby. he was trying not to wake the infant up. there is no comment on the fact women are not allowed to yell indoors. or the fact that it could have been really alarming or triggering for his wife. sometimes i wonder if straight men even like women, if they even enjoy being in relationships with them.

for the longest time, i hated roller coasters because it always felt inappropriate and uncomfortable for me to scream. one of my friends called me on it, said it was unusual i'm so unwilling. i had to go to my therapist about it. i don't like to scream because i was not raised in a safe situation, and raising my voice would have brought unsafe attention towards me. even when i am supposed to scream, it feels shameful, guilty. i was not treated kindly, so i lack a basic form of self-protection. this is not a natural response. it is not good that in a situation of high adrenaline - i shut up about it.

something very bad is happening, i think. in between all the beauty standards and the stuff i've already discussed - this one feels new and cruel in a way i can't quite express. yes, it's scary and silencing. but there's something about how direct it is - that so many men agree with the sentiment that women should never yell, even in an emergency - it feels different.

is the word shriek gendered automatically? how about shrill or screech? in self defense class, one of the first things they tell you is to yell, as loud and as shrilly as you can. they say it will feel rude. most women will not do this. you need to practice overcoming the social pressure and just scream.

most women do not cry out, even when it's bad. we do not report it. we walk faster. we do not make a scene. what would be the point of doing anything else? no matter what we do, we don't get taken seriously. it is a joke to them. an instagram caption punchline. we have to present ourselves as silent, beautiful, captivating - "valuable."

a woman is outside watching her kids when someone throws a firecracker at them. she screams and runs towards her children. in the comments, grown men flock together in the thousands: god. women are so annoying.

[witchesverse]

ouija board. (kinktober)

pairing: demon!wandanat x fem!reader

summary: after playing with an ouija board and forgetting to say goodbye, you let two horny demons into the world of living.

content: noncon, slight daddy kink, pussy eating, fingering, summoning demons with an ouija board, possibility scary descriptions of the demons ??, dom!wandanat, sub!reader implying kidnapping.

masterlist

You laughed as Kate, with a big grin, revealed the hidden Oujia board and candles from her backpack. You sat across from each other and she placed the board and candles in the middle.

"You cannot be serious, Kate." You said with a laugh.

"I was promised by the guy that we can actually summon things!" She explained for what felt like the millionth time.

You sighed, "Fine."

The candles were lit around the board and you both had your fingers on the pointer. You didn't believe in supernatural things, but Kate was obsessed with them. Ouija boards were a joke.

"Okay, ask now."

You wanted to argue that this wasn't real, but Kate looked so excited and you couldn't ruin that.

"How many spirits are here?"

There was nothing for a few moments, then, the pointer moved to the numbers.

2.

"Kate, you so just moved that."

"I swear I didn't!" She whined, "Ask again."

You rolled your eyes, not believing her.

"Who is here?"

It moved again.

D. A. D. D. Y.

"Daddy?" You laughed, "This spirit is a freak."

Kate urged you to continue asking.

"Where are you?"

B. E. H. I. N. D. Y. O. U.

You felt a chill run down your spine and glanced over your shoulder, seeing nothing. You cleared your throat and prepared to ask another question but Kate's phone rang.

"Shit. It's my mom, she knows I snuck out." Kate declined the call and stood, "I'll see you next weekend?"

You nodded, "Yeah, see you then."

At 3AM, you woke to the sound of your phone pinging with notifications.

katie <3: fuck. y/n did you say goodbye to the ouija board?

you: no?

katie <3: fuck fuck. dude, ur meant to say goodbye so you can close the door and stop spirits from entering the world of living.

you: sure kate. goodnight.

You switched your phone off and rolled over, wanting to get some sleep. In the corner of your eye, you noticed something in the corner of your room. It looked to be some type of human figure but deformed in a way you couldn't describe. Your window and door were closed, yet you felt a gush of cold air flow over you and shivered.

Your heart began to pound and your skin crawled with discomfort.

Another figure appeared in the corner of your room.

Kate is playing a stupid prank on me.

You sat up and reached for your light switch but your wrist was grabbed and long, cold fingers wrapped around your throat, squeezing slightly.

Your eyes widened and a whimper left your throat.

Minus the large horns, razor-sharp teeth, skin that appeared to be shattered, freezing cold skin, and dark black blood oozing from the body; it looked human.

"What the fuck are you?" You screamed.

The creature attempted to smile. It looked unnatural and made you feel sick to the stomach.

"Shouldn't have left the door open. You let daddy right in" It, no she, spat.

Your eyes widened. Kate wasn't joking about the Ouija board and leaving the door open. You had let two spirits into your home.

"I'm sorry, I didn't-"

"God, do mortals ever shut up?" Another female voice spoke with a thicker accent.

The hands around your throat were removed, and the new spirit caressed your face with the back of her hand. She looked similar to the other spirit.

"What are you?" You questioned, voice shaking.

"Demons, sweetheart." She swiftly replied "Hurry up, Natasha. I don't want to be here much longer."

Natasha, the first demon, ripped your blanket off your body. You cried out as she did the same to your clothes. You tried to crawl away from Natasha but she grabbed onto your hips and pinned you down.

"Go on, Wanda." Her tone was teasing "I know you want and miss it."

Wanda barred her teeth at Natasha, making your heart drop. It was a terrifying sight.

You tried to fight Natasha's hold, but she easily overpowered you and manhandled you until you were lying on your back and bare. She wrapped her arms around your thighs to keep them open and settled between them.

"Fuck you." Wanda hissed, sending Natasha a glare.

Natasha snarled and dug her fingernails into your thigh, making you whimper. You didn't understand their feud, but it seemed somewhat playful.

Your heart nearly leapt out of your chest as she squeezed your cheeks, forcing your tongue out and sat on your face. She rocked her hips back and forth, sighing in contentment as the pleasure spread across her body.

"That's it, baby," Natasha muttered, watching Wanda intently.

It was strange, but you didn't want to fight back. Your clit was throbbing and your skin felt hot. Your brain felt hazy and you struggled to form a thought that wasn't about pleasure.

You wrapped your arms around Wanda's thighs and pulled her closer. You alternated between lapping at her dripping cunt and sucking her clit.

Natasha slipped two fingers inside of you and kitten-licked at your clit. Her fingers felt like they were made for your pussy. Your walls clenched around her and you mewed loudly.

Wanda groaned and panted above you. Her slick was dripping down your chin to your neck. The taste of her was addictive.

"I'm gonna cum." Your words were muffled by Wanda, but the demons heard you. "Please, can I cum?"

"Oh, this one has manners, Natty." Wanda laughed above you. Her laughter was strained and whiney.

"Hold it." Natasha snapped.

You whined loudly, wanting to fight Natasha on her decision, but you felt like that would do more harm than good.

Wanda grabbed at your hair and pulled you further into her cunt. Her hips stopped grinding against your face and you moaned as spurts of liquid hit your face.

Your orgasm quickly followed.

You found yourself in Wanda's arms when you came down from your high. She caressed your face with the back of her hand with that sick, inhumane smile.

"I think we're gonna keep you."