#anti-violence shirt

[georgia-scotts]

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[inkskinned]

no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

[coochiequeens]

Thousands protest against increasing violence against women in Kenya as they march to the parliamentary building and supreme court in the capital Nairobi [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

Published On 27 Jan 202427 Jan 2024

Thousands of people have gathered to protest in cities and towns in Kenya against the recent slayings of more than a dozen women.

The anti-femicide demonstration on Saturday was the largest event ever held in the country against sexual and gender-based violence.

In the capital, Nairobi, protesters wore T-shirts printed with the names of women who became homicide victims this month. The crowd, composed mostly of women, brought traffic to a standstill.

“Stop killing us!” the demonstrators shouted as they waved signs with messages such as “There is no justification to kill women.”

The crowd in Nairobi was hostile to attempts by the parliamentary representative for women, Esther Passaris, to address them. Accusing Passaris of remaining silent during the latest wave of killings, protesters shouted her down with chants of “Where were you?” and “Go home!”

“A country is judged by not how well it treats its rich people, but how well it takes care of the weak and vulnerable,” said Law Society of Kenya President Eric Theuri, who was among the demonstrators.

Kenyan media outlets have reported the slayings of at least 14 women since the start of the year, according to Patricia Andago, a data journalist at media and research firm Odipo Dev who also took part in the march.

Odipo Dev reported this week that news accounts showed at least 500 women were killed in acts of femicide from January 2016 to December 2023. Many more cases go unreported, Andago said.

Two cases that gripped Kenya this month involved two women who were killed at Airbnb accommodations. The second victim was a university student who was dismembered and decapitated after she reportedly was kidnapped for ransom.

Theuri said cases of gender-based violence take too long to be heard in Kenyan court, which he thinks emboldens perpetrators to commit crimes against women.

“As we speak right now, we have a shortage of about 100 judges. We have a shortage of 200 magistrates and adjudicators, and so that means that the wheel of justice grinds slowly as a result of inadequate provisions of resources,” he said.

People gather to protest in an anti-femicide demonstration, the largest event of its kind ever held in Kenya. [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

Kenyan media outlets have reported the slayings of at least 14 women since the start of the year. [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

A protester holds a Palestinian flag during a march to protest against the rising cases of femicide, in downtown Nairobi. [Brian Inganga/AP Photo]

Women and feminists in Kenya took to the streets to march against the rising cases of femicide. [Brian Inganga/AP Photo]

In Nairobi, protesters wore T-shirts printed with the names of women who became homicide victims this month. [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

Protesters react against the rising cases of femicide. [Brian Inganga/AP Photo]

A human rights activist reacts as she attends a protest demanding an end to femicide in the country. [Monicah Mwangi/Reuters]

Protesters gather during the anti-femicide demonstration. [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

The crowd, composed mostly of women, brought traffic to a standstill. [Gerald Anderson/Anadolu Agency]

[jaskierx]

3000 - three thousand - anti-racist counter protestors forming a barrier around the beacon centre in newcastle, holding signs saying ‘geordies are of all colours’.

£12,000 raised by a local resident in hartlepool who wanted to show appreciation to the mosque after it was targeted.

sunderland residents joining a mass clean up after the riots, many wearing safc football shirts as they swept up broken glass and helped board up broken windows.

hundreds of people gathering in middlesbrough at 7 in the morning and bringing cleaning equipment to share so they could put the town back how it should be.

white people standing shoulder to shoulder with their neighbours of colour, vicars and rabbis and imams standing together to condemn the violence, folks offering to walk people of colour home or accompany them on public transport if they feel unsafe alone.

this is what working class northern england looks like. this is who we are. racists and fascists are not welcome here. they do not define us.

the riots are terrible. the people participating in them are scum. but do not write off my entire community as ‘stupid racist northeners in shitty post industrial towns’ when we are doing all we can and proving that that could not be further from the truth

[hardlyinteresting]

Love, Guilt and Other Wounds

Aaron Hotchner x female reader

When Aaron and his partner are taken hostage, he has to break her heart to save her life.

Warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, a little bit of domestic fluff, mention of blood, injury (non-graphic), hostage situation, knives, cannon-compliant themes of violence, non-detailed discussion about religion (Christianity), themes of childhood abuse, please let me know if you want me to add anything else.

Word count: (less than I expected, sorry) 3.7k  Request here! | Masterlist

"Of course, I’ll hurt you. Of course, you’ll hurt me. Of course, we will hurt each other. But this is the very condition of existence. To become spring means accepting the risk of winter. To become presence, means accepting the risk of absence". - Antoine de Saint-Exupéry

Aaron isn't sure if he believes in a God or a higher power. He was taught to read scripture; and spent Sunday mornings perfecting his posture in church pews-- starched shirts and neckties pulled too tight. The preacher's sermons left him wanting-- wondering how this man of God could stand over his congregation preaching every week, and not see all the lies they were holding back. How could he not see the secrets Aaron seemed to read so clearly? At just fourteen Aaron knew who was having an affair and with whom. He could see which children feared their fathers. Every pew had another story, another family growing together, or falling apart. The hypocrisy of it all drove him mad, and he imagined standing from his seat to shout it, overwhelmed as he realized he had unintentionally become the keeper of everyone's secrets. He learned that everyone in that church was a liar in their own right, and he hated it. But, when he left for college, his mother called to ask if he was still going to church on Sundays, and he lied and said yes. 

He should have paid more attention. Maybe then he'd understand how he ended up here. Perhaps it's some sick retribution. A cosmic evening of the scales; his penance for his sins. He just wishes you weren't here with him. How dare he think he could love someone when all he's ever done is punish those who love him? His hands are stained with blood; he taints everything he touches. 

Very early on in his career, Aaron learned he couldn’t take cases personally. As devastating as it was to have another victim show up while hunting a killer, it wasn’t a personal failure. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He repeated the process again and again. Logically he knows that he is not responsible for the actions of the aggressive sociopath who is now holding the two of you hostage; but, he blames himself for not keeping you safer, for bringing you with him, and for putting you in harm's way. He knows he will not recover if you don’t make it out of here. He won’t forgive himself. 

The profile said this man would be anti-social. Physically, he’d be small in stature. It was clear he’d been sneaking up on his victims. He had been taking couples, knocking out the men with a blow to the back of the head, and then the women. It’s a method that the team had seen before, common for UNSUBs without the social ability to lure their victims, or the physical strength or confidence to attack head-on. But they had not profiled that he would escalate to taking out his targets with a taser. 

After six days in San Diego, the team finally had a lead on two rental properties in the UNSUB’s comfort zone. One was an old tyre factory, listed as a multipurpose warehouse and storage space; the other was a large storage facility in an industrial neighbourhood. Both units had been paid for in cash, both offered the privacy and space required to hold and torture two people for days at a time. The team split up, Hotch and you arranged to meet the owner of the factory space to find out more about who the renter was and gain access to the property. With no response from the owner of the second property, Morgan, Prentiss, and Rossi headed over to check it out. 

The two of you had only been on the property for five minutes before Aaron had been incapacitated and taken out. He had foolishly made his way into the building while you ran back to the SUV to grab your jacket. Out cold, there was nothing Aaron could do to stop you from meeting the same fate. 

It’s not his fault. But he feels like it is as he watches you shiver from across the room. He can’t be certain how much time has passed, but it feels like hours. He can only hope that you’re being kept in the building you were attacked in, that the team will connect the dots and come and get you, but until then you’re stuck. He watches, nauseated as your eyes flutter open, and then shut again. You’re concussed, he doesn’t need to be a doctor to know that. His ears are ringing, and he’s sure the blow he took to the head has at the very least temporarily worsened his hearing. 

“Doesn’t the FBI have rules against fraternization?” The UNSUB wonders out loud, waving a knife around as he walks towards you. 

“What makes you think we’re a couple?” Hotch asks, as he tries to work his hands free from the rope that binds them behind his back, “She’s just a colleague”. 

It’s a lie. But it needs to be said. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. Buy time, shift the UNSUB’s interest away from the two of you. Ruin the fantasy.

“I think I’ve been doing this long enough to know a couple when I see a couple, Aaron,” the man taunts, obviously proud of himself. He’s feeling emboldened having taken two FBI agents, but that works in your favour. He’s getting cocky, too full of himself. It’s a level of confidence he isn’t used to having, it just gives him a higher height to fall from. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. “I think it’s time we wake your girlfriend up,” the man says, his hand gripping tightly at your hair, your head tugged back without remorse. 

Aaron resists the urge to cringe as he hears you groan, your face twisted with obvious pain as you’re rudely awakened. “She’s pretty. What’s she doing with you?” 

“I told you. She’s a colleague”. 

Your eyes are unfocused, scanning the room trying to make sense of what is going on. 

The man raises the knife, holding it to your throat. This time Aaron blinks, desperate to control his expressions and micro-expressions. In this scenario, the less he cares about you, the safer you are. 

It’s the burden of being tied to him. Time after time his love destroys people. 

The blade presses closer to your throat. Aaron controls his breathing. 

“Impressive agent Hotchner. But I’m still not convinced,” the UNSUB moves the blade but pulls your head back further. Your eyes meet Aaron’s, “Do what you’re going to do, he doesn’t care,” you say. You’re speaking to the man with the knife in his hand as much as you’re speaking to Aaron. He weighs his options, his heart pounding as he watches you hold your breath, willing the tears to leave your eyes. It’s the permission he needs but doesn’t want.  Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He knows you’re doing the same, telling him to break your heart to save your life. 

“Please, Hotc--”. 

He doesn’t let you finish, “Just shut up for once. Please,” he thinks the words cut through him more than they cut through you. Knowing his cruelty is a lie does little to soften the blow, and it breaks his heart to be the one throwing it. 

But this is all he’s good for, isn’t it? Letting people down. Surely it’s not just coincidence that so many of those who have dared to love him end up damaged. One way or another he destroys people. Who is he to say that he’s the one who is suffering when it’s he who does all the damage? 

Even as a child, he couldn’t help it. He thinks perhaps he inherited his sharpened tongue and lack of patience from his mother. She loved him in her own way but could never show it without first tearing him apart. Her biting words, and regular beatings. Prentiss had been right when she once said he was distrustful of women-- unfairly so. Not all women carry the hateful, spiteful heart his mother had. Very few had ever turned their rage at the world and their shortcomings into a personal and violent rage against him. He grew weary nonetheless. Better safe than sorry.

 At a young age, it became clear to him that there were few things, if anything, as important to his mother than appearances. On Sundays, she fussed over his clothes and his posture. She lectured him on table manners from the moment he could hold a fork. His room had to be spotless. His grades had to surpass average. Long before his brother was ever born, he learned how to live up to her expectations. But still, there was always something she could find him lacking in, an excuse to take her open fist or wooden spoon to his skin, a reason to send him to bed without dinner. He remembers crashing into the china cabinet trying to escape her one night. She was mortified on Monday when he had to walk into school on Monday with a cast around his arm. “Make sure they know this was your fault,” she told him. Perhaps I was built to fail, he had thought. She loves me and I embarrass her. I will only ever let her down. God, how disappointed she would be to see him now.  

Seconds feel like hours as the UNSUB leers expectantly. The man's mouth twists into a smile when he sees the tears forming in your waterline again. Aaron watches your fist clench presumably to distract yourself from the migraine that matches the pounding in his head, just as much as it is to pull your attention away from the hurtful lies he's about to weave. 

“You were supposed to have my back,” Arron spits with faux vitriol. “You had one job and couldn't even manage to do that”. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. 

“From the moment you showed up I knew you'd be a problem”. 

He continues to try to work his hands out from the binds. He can feel the knot loosening as he continues to buy the two of you time. “Aaron,” you beg, tears slipping down your cheeks now. 

“Following me around with some school girl crush. Look where we are now,” Aaron breathes. 

He can feel his father’s rage resting on his shoulders, as heavy as his hands were when he used to pat him on the back. It’s a quiet burning, far more silent than his mother’s anger, but it’s there and threatening him all the same. A silent shame; a fear induced by the knowledge that he’s failing but not being able to stop it. His father lived like a ghost in their home, just as Aaron has learned to haunt his life. He only ever raised his voice when he drank, but even then his hatred was self-directed. A sorrowful self-pity. A cry for help. The affairs, the gambling, the drinking; the man punished himself, stumbling home to a house with a vengeful wife, a silent boy, and a crying baby. It was a heart attack that finally killed him, but Aaron never doubted his father had stopped living long before that. 

Aaron breaks his own heart as he delivers each verbal blow. He hopes you understand. He prays that just maybe your concussion might leave the memories of this moment blurry. Selfishly, he begs you to forgive him, because he won’t forgive himself. 

He can see the way your wrists strain against your restraints. The UNSUB adjusts his grip on your hair as you struggle to distance yourself from him. Your eyelids flutter and he knows your vision must be swimming but you don’t give up. With a sadistic grin, the UNSUB wipes at the tear stain on your cheek with fake sympathy, grasping your jaw roughly he forces you to look straight at Aaron, “Poor girl… guess boss man doesn’t care about you after all. What a waste,” he sighs his breath heavy against your cheek, as he moves to hold the knife to your throat again, “She’s so pretty,” he directs his commentary at Aaron this time. 

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I’ve slept with her. How couldn’t I when she was practically throwing herself at me?” The words taste bitter on his tongue as he speaks them. His stomach churns as he continues, “But what we have certainly isn’t love”. 

It couldn’t be further from the truth. Aaron grounds himself choosing to remember the quiet morning you two had shared only a few days earlier. Waking up without an alarm but with Jack sneaking in to jump up on the bed. As he watches you cry now he recalls how you had smiled so brightly at the little boy, ruffling his hair and cuddling Jack into your side. He had watched with a smile of his own as you bargained with his son, promising pancakes in exchange for ten more minutes of sleep on your shared day off. 

You crept into his heart so slowly he had hardly noticed. Until one day, he looked up from the bright pink sticky note you'd left on your recent report, reminding him not to work too hard; he knew, without a doubt, he was in love with you. 

For so much of his life, Aaron conditioned himself to expect a fight around every corner. He learned to make sacrifices from his happiness in fruitless attempts to keep peace. For the first time in forever he's been feeling like maybe, just maybe, he's enough. You’ve been more than patient with him; understanding his hesitance to open up to people again. You don't get upset with him for working late, but you scold him for not getting enough sleep and skipping meals. 

He smiles more. He cracks jokes the way he used to. You've helped him see the forest from the trees--  healed parts of him he didn’t know needed mending. He's tried to do the same for you. He's watched you open up and trust the team more. He's seen the way your confidence has grown and he can't take credit for your growth, but he's enamoured by the transformation just the same. 

You deserve better. You deserve better. You deserve better. The thought echoes in his head the same as it does most days. But now, it’s louder. The voice in his head matches the volume of the ringing in his ears, and the rushing sound of his pounding heart. Compartmentalize. Use logic. Move forward. He fights to remind himself, but the UNSUB is laughing now. Taunting you and your emotions, and there’s nothing Aaron can do but sit there and watch. He struggles to feign indifference, watching as you continue to make yourself smaller. It’s only then that he notices that you too are working your hands out of the rope that restrains you. The UNSUB was stupid enough to tie your wrist in front of you.

Aaron’s eyes focus on the bandaid wrapped around your index finger. You cut yourself making dinner last week. He could have sworn his heart melted when you turned to him holding your hand out, blood beading already. “Aaron, where do you keep your first aid kit?” you’d asked. Your brows furrowed, and your lips pouted. “In the bathroom, the cabinet under the sink,” he’d answered with no intention of letting you go off and tend to your wound alone. Instead, he guided you down the hall, his left hand looped in a gentle hold around your wrist, his other hand on your waist. 

Once you were sat on the countertop he took great care, making sure the wound was cleaned before he bandaged it. “My hero,” you teased, leaning in for a kiss. 

A simple cut he could manage to fix. Jack promised you could use as many of his Star Wars bandaids as you wanted while you healed as well. A little love and patience could make it better, a philosophy he adopted to heal Jack’s scraped knees, and schoolyard bruises. But the sight before him now is far worse than any kitchen mishap could be. 

Your nose is still bleeding. Bruises have already begun to form, red marks turning deep purple with every passing minute. He knows that your concussion is something you'll recover from. The contact burns from where the taser touched your skin will become new skin someday soon. The cuts and scrapes will scab over and then disappear. 

Aaron worries the damage he's done can never truly be ameliorated. Your compassion is unmatched. It’s what makes you a good agent, a good partner, and someone Jack can turn to. You are forgiving. God knows you've excused enough of his behaviour. But, he doesn't deserve to be absolved of this guilt. He will carry this day around in the darkest corner of his heart; the same place he holds the memory of Haley and how he failed her. The words “what we have certainly isn't love,” will linger uneffaced by time or kind words. 

The squeak of an old door opening piques Aaron's interest. The UNSUB doesn't react. Seemingly only interested in tracing the tear tracks on your cheeks. Your eyes are closing again. It's over now, he wants to tell you. He wants to hold you; comfort you; to apologise because you deserve to hear it anyway.

“Paul Simpson. FBI,” Morgan’s voice booms, “drop the knife and put your hands where I can see them”. Prentiss and Dave come to stand next to Morgan, their guns trained on the newly identified perpetrator. Aaron bites his tongue so hard he can taste blood-- it's all he can do to stop himself from bursting into a fit of bitter laughter. We win, he wants to say. 

Disarmed and handcuffed, Paul is escorted outside by Morgan and two members of the local police. Prentiss and Rossi make quick work of untying you and Aaron. 

“Aaron?” he can hear you mutter, breathy and quiet. 

“Yeah, I’m right here,” he promises kneeling at your side. Your eyes are glazed and unfocused as you nod and tip forward. Unconscious, your entire body falls forward into Prentiss’ arms. Aaron’s voice joins Rossi in calling for a paramedic. 

The doctors assure him that you’ll wake up soon. They dealt with his injuries quickly. Bruised ribs are the worst of his injuries. A cut at the back of his head and the taser burns were patched in only a few minutes, though he’ll readily admit he was far from a good patient. Too anxious to keep still much to the nurse’s dismay. 

You’re still asleep. A major concussion will have you out of the field for much longer than he knows you’ll be happy with. He makes a mental note to start setting aside some extra paperwork for when you inevitably start hounding him for something to do. With the lights in the room dimmed, and a comfortable silence settling he allows himself to indulge in the illusion that everything might be alright between you. 

With your hand in his, he breathes deeply trying to focus. He prays to a God he’s not sure he believes in. And when the quiet starts to get to him, he speaks out loud, as silly as he thinks he may look. He tells you about the phone call he had with Jack earlier and lets you know that Jack has a new painting he can’t wait to show you when you get home. Your hand squeezes his, encouraging him to keep talking.

“Aaron?” your eyelids flutter as you adjust to the light. The nurse had them turned to the dimmest setting but it’s still far more than you feel immediately capable of coping with. 

“Yeah, honey,” he affirms. You release the breath you’re holding your brow relaxing.  

“I love you,” you tell him. Your voice is steady and steadfast. Your resolve is impressive, unwavering and determined as you focus on making eye contact with him. “It’s not your fault,” you promise. He’s sure you don’t expect the weight on his shoulders to lighten instantaneously. You’ll tell him every day that he’s not to blame; intent on chiselling away at his guilt, shrinking it down before it manages to consume him. 

“I love you,” he swears. He knows it won’t squash any of the doubt he’s planted. Aaron knows there will soon be days that the niggling insecurity threatens to break what you’ve managed to build together; when the worry that you aren’t enough seems louder than it ever has before. He won’t blame you if you decide it isn’t worth the pain of staying with him. But, he’s hell-bent on loving you through it. He can only hope that it’s enough. 

[gremlin-girly]

Flufftober Day 10

@flufftober

Prompt(s): Bet/Game/Contest

Pairing: Dean Winchester x f!reader

Warnings/tags: misogyny/catcalling/dude being a creep and asshole (not Dean), duelling, canon-typical violence, Dean being a dork, I'm putting a warning here for cringe/stalker/gross behaviour from the asshole,

Summary: Whilst perusing a stall at the renfair you encounter a guy that just won't leave you be, when Dean overhears. As penance for coming to your "rescue", he's challenged to a duel for your hand.

Word count: 1.1k

A/N: I just loved writing this one. I actually went and re-watched the episode before I wrote it after I had the idea💀 I was stuck on this prompt for a while. I was thinking of pie eating contests (duh-doy) and bets with Loki but nothing seemed good enough. But I hope you enjoy reading! - Love, Grem 💜

As always, likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated! 💜 Dividers by: @/saradika-graphics

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Smoke wafted in-between the stalls and tents of Ye Olde Marketplace, the smell of meats, mead and treats making your mouth water. This was your second renaissance fair and you were determined to make it worthwhile. You were an elf this time around, not necessarily LARPing but just in costume; the whole nine yards with flowers in your hair, glitter on your cheeks and of course, pointed ears. Your outfit complimented your body excellently as well as your elven "character". Layered skirts and flowy bouse with your body adorned in earth-toned accessories, it was no wonder you were stared at by other fair goers.

One in particular had followed you from stall to stall. You tried blocking him out but the skin-crawling feeling of being watched had you on edge. You picked up a crystal at one of the stalls ran by a guy in a comical wizard hat and a long grey beard, reading the miniscule cursive card on the stand amongst the crystals. You couldn't make out every word but you thought it read something about keeping bad energies at bay.

You really needed that right now.

"Mi'lady." A voice said from beside you, making you jump. It was that guy. You can't control your facial expression as you cringe at him.

"Hi." You mutter and turn away. You secretly hope that all of the anti-douchebag crystals are out in full force because this is not something you do not want to be dealing with today.

"What doth bring a fair maiden such as yourself to a place such as this?"

His voice is grating and you suppress a shiver, opting to continue browsing instead of answering. Why did this have to happen to you?

"Hey!" The guy begins, reaching a hand out to you. "I'm talking to yo-"

You turn as you see his hand reaching towards you, ready to chew him out for being a creep, but another hand halted his hand in its tracks. Your eyes widen as you follow your rescuer's hand all the way up his arm to his face. He's dressed as some sort of knight, loose shirt and some chainmail, but his features have a stormy look to them as he glares at the guy who'd been following you. You melt into a puddle; handsome doesn't even begin to cover how damn good this guy looked. Even if he did have powdered sugar on his cheek.

"This guy bothering you?" His voice is gruff and stern, green eyes meeting yours and you find you can't quite say anything.

"Uh, well -"

"I wasn't doing anything - I was here first!" The creep protests and the look on your face says it all; you're disgusted and unimpressed.

You look back to your knight with no shining armour. "Yeah. He's bothering me."

"I declare a duel!" The creep says loudly and a few passers-by slow down to nosy in on the conversation. "For the lady's hand."

"Dude," Your hero sighs, looking incredulous at him as you roll your eyes with repulsion. "Give it a rest. Just take your damn potions and go."

The creep unsheathes a wooden sword and points it at your hero, who half-heartedly shrugs with an exasperated "really?". The creep jabs him in the chest once. He doesn't quite get to the second jab as his sword is smacked out of the way and a swift punch lands perfectly in the square of his face.

With a sickening crack he slumps to the ground, clutching a bleeding nose. You can't help but feel a little smug at the sight and your heart swoons just a little at the scene you've just experienced. A handsome knight coming to rescue a damsel in distress.

"Come on," You say to your knight, nodding to one of the other colourful stalls. "I believe I owe you a drink for rescuing me."

You set down two butter-beers on a picnic table, and jostle a brown paper bag of freshly made mini donuts in the middle. The smell that wafts from the bag is sickening - and you reach in and pop one into your mouth as soon as you're seated.

Your knight, who you found that his name was Dean, took a sip from the buttery stein in front of him, making a grunt of approval and immediately swigging more.

"Thanks again," You say over your own glass. "You fight for a maiden's honour a lot?" “It’s what I do. Saving people.” He looks like he’s about to add something else, but clears his throat, looking sheepish. “It’s a family thing, ya know?” “Hm.” You don’t know whether it’s the LARPing or if he’s being genuine, but your heart flutters again and you can't help but smile at him. He's stuffing two mini donuts into his mouth but when he catches you smiling at him, he attempts to smile back but his cheeks are too full and when you laugh at him his cheeks go pink.

"Well, cheers!" You raise your stein and clink it with his. The conversation ebbs and flows naturally and you soon find yourself engrossed in his family history - well, his character's family history - about monsters and demons and angels. It's so well-thought out you're almost embarrassed to not have anything so detailed.

After Dean's phone rings as you're traversing stalls together (nearly three hours later) and a very curt conversation with someone on the other end, Dean gives you an apologetic look.

"Sorry, duty calls." He sighs, tucking his phone away into his pocket again. You'd already exchanged numbers earlier after finding out you had more in common than you'd realised, and at the very least, if you couldn't date the guy you could at least be friends.

"That's alright. I had a blast today." You gush, grinning at him. He gives you a boyish smile in return and before he has a chance to say anything else, you lean up to place a soft peck on his cheek. Dean's smile only grows wider when you sternly remind him, "Keep in touch, Dean Winchester. I wanna know all about these monsters and the next parts of the story."

"Yes ma'am." He affirms with a short nod, making his way out of the fair, nearly tripping into a hidden rabbit hole because he can't stop looking over at you as he leaves.

You giggle and wave him out of sight. Perhaps you should make an equally intricate backstory for your LARP character, though not as sad as Dean's, using today as an example. You decide then and there that meeting Dean Winchester ought to be a turning point for something good instead of bad. Although, you can't quite decide who your next monster of the week will be.

You'll just have to call Dean for some ideas.

[mimimarvelingmarvel]

time bound part twelve

pairing: worst wolverine!logan howlett x f!mutant!reader

Part Twelve - Masterlist

summary: Y/n’s life takes a dramatic turn when the Time Variance Authority intervenes, pulling her from a critical moment in her timeline. The TVA sends her to the void where she eventually meets with Deadpool and a very familiar face. With Deadpool's universe in the balance, alongside his reluctant would-be pal, Wolverine, and the enigmatic time-bending mutant known as the Veil, the trio must complete the mission and save Deadpool’s world from an existential threat.

overall warnings: 18+, Fem!Reader, AFAB Reader, Use of Y/N, Her X-Men name is Veil, She/her pronouns, Swearing, Angst, Heavy Violence, Character Death, Deadpool (he’s his own warning), Hurt, Fluff, Angst, Eventual Smut, Slow Burn, TVA

word count: 2.7k

a/n: So sorry for the late update, but I’ve just returned to uni and got the flu almost immediately. I am watching the Greatest Showman to make me feel better.

A high-pitched ringing fills my ears, drowning out every other sound. My body feels like it’s being jolted by thousands of volts of electricity, every nerve burning, every muscle straining to hold on. I can barely see through the blinding light, the energy warping around me, threatening to tear me apart at the seams.

“Y/N!” A voice cuts through the chaos, desperate and loud. My head whips to the side, and I see Wade, his arm outstretched, hand reaching for me as he tries to squeeze through the violent storm of energy surrounding us.

“What are you doing?!” I scream, the words barely audible over the roar of matter and anti-matter colliding.

Wade grins, though it’s strained. “Saving your life, Bub!”

Before I can process what he’s doing, I feel another presence to my left. “Take my hand.” Logan’s voice is rough, commanding. His hand is outstretched, eyes locked on mine with an intensity that cuts through the blinding light.

My heart pounds in my chest, and I feel tears welling up in my eyes, blurring the chaos around me. Logan. Wade. Both of them reaching for me, trying to pull me out of this—whatever this is. I stretch my arms out, trembling from the force of the energy ripping through me. Wade’s hand clasps mine tightly, and Logan grips the other, their strength anchoring me as the meeting of matter and anti-matter surges in a deadly collision.

The energy pulses violently, the air crackling with power. I’m the anchor. The focal point holding it all together. And I can feel it building to a breaking point, the pressure unbearable, my whole body vibrating under the strain.

Then, everything erupts.

The world explodes around us. A deafening boom rattles my bones as the ground beneath our feet gives way. I see walls crumbling, debris flying in every direction, a swirling maelstrom of destruction. But somehow, through it all, I remain anchored—connected to Logan and Wade, their hands the only thing tethering me to this world.

As the building collapses, I feel Logan move. He pulls me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me in a protective embrace. His body, hard and unyielding, shields me from the falling rubble as the room disintegrates around us. Wade is somewhere nearby, swearing loudly between coughs, but I can’t focus on him. All I can feel is Logan’s warmth surrounding me, his heart pounding in his chest, his breath hot against my ear as he whispers something I can’t make out over the chaos.

Eventually, the chaos begins to subside. The air clears, the dust settling around us. Logan’s grip on me loosens slightly, but he doesn’t let go, keeping me pressed against his bare chest as he rises from the wreckage, surveying the damage.

My head swims as I open my eyes, coughing through the dust and smoke. Logan still has me held tightly, his shirt ripped away in the explosion, leaving his torso exposed. My eyes can’t help but wander over the way his muscles ripple as he moves. He glances down at me, his face streaked with dirt, but his expression softens as he meets my gaze.

“You alright?” he asks, his voice low and gruff, concern etched in his features.

I nod weakly, my heart still racing. “Yeah… I think so.”

Logan’s eyes linger on mine for a moment longer, then he releases me gently, stepping back as Wade stumbles over, covered in dust but grinning like a maniac. “Well, that was fun!” he quips, brushing off debris from his suit. “Let’s do it again sometime.”

I roll my eyes, still trying to catch my breath. “You’re insane,” I mutter, shaking my head.

Wade winks at me. “You love it.”

Logan lets out a low growl, giving Wade a hard shove on the shoulder. “Enough.”

We make our way through the debris, stepping over broken stone and shattered glass. Logan stays close, his arm brushing mine occasionally as we navigate the remnants of the room that was once whole but now reduced to ruins. The scent of dust and burnt metal fills the air, thick and cloying in my throat. My body still aches, my muscles protesting with every step, but it’s nothing compared to the adrenaline pumping through me.

We round a corner, sparks fly around us, the lingering energy from the explosion still crackling in the air. Wade walks out first, declaring; “He has risen, baby girl!” Standing there, looking anything but pleased to see us, is Paradox. “Fuck!” He’s flanked by a group of TVA agents, each of them looking ready to intervene at any moment.

Deadpool points to me, his expression mischievous. “Found your new Anchor Being.”

Paradox stares at me, disbelief clear on his face. “I don’t understand. How is she still alive?”

With a flourish, Deadpool shrugs. “Turns out she’s basically a little mutant cross between a human and a time ripper. Indestructible motherfucker.”

One of the TVA agents steps forward, her voice steady and commanding. “Let’s get this Deadpool variant back to The Void,” she orders, her eyes locking onto Wade with a no-nonsense expression.

Wade’s eyes widen in mock horror. “Wait, hold on, what?”

Before anything else can happen, a new figure enters the room—Peterpool. He rushes in, arms waving. “Nope, actually, this one’s homegrown,” he says, nodding toward Deadpool. “Like me, he belongs here.”

The TVA agent, her badge reading B-15, raises an eyebrow. “And you are?”

Peterpool grins. “Peterpool. But you can call me Peter. And I hope that you do.”

Paradox, still clearly frustrated, throws his hands up in exasperation. “What the fuck is happening here?”

B-15 crosses her arms, unimpressed. “You are under judgment for operating an unsanctioned Time-Ripper. Take him,” she orders, and in an instant, her agents move in on Paradox.

As they grab him, Paradox struggles, his voice rising in anger. “I was just doing what you don’t have the guts to do! Get off, get off! Your hands off me!” He continues to shout as the agents drag him through a shimmering TVA portal, his voice fading as he disappears.

B-15 turns her attention back to the rest of us, her gaze landing on me and Logan. “I’m grateful. Let’s hold the bows, though,” she says dryly. “You led an Omega-level mutant to this timeline.”

Deadpool’s grin widens. “You’re welcome.”

B-15 looks between me and Logan, her tone growing serious. “And you two shouldn’t even be near this timeline.”

Deadpool steps in, unfazed by her reprimand. “They’re welcome.”

She pauses, her eyes sliding over to Peterpool, her expression softening slightly. “And you look damn good in that suit,” she says, a hint of a smile pulling at her lips.

Peter’s face flushes, his voice apologetic. “I’m so sorry.”

B-15 shakes her head, clearly amused now. “I wanna show you something. Something huge.”

Deadpool, ever the opportunist, quips, “That’s what Scoutmaster Kevin used to say.”

Ignoring him, B-15 gestures to her little TVA device. “Do you see that? Your universe is regenerating.” The lines that represent the timeline is slowly fixing itself. “Whatever you did here, you not only saved your world, but you also spared your timeline from extinction.”

B-15 steps back, preparing to leave. “Rest up. I have a feeling your work is only just getting started.”

She turns to go, but Deadpool isn’t done yet. “Wait! We couldn’t have made it out of The Void without some help from some people that the world kinda forgot. Is there any way you could maybe find a way to bring them home?”

B-15 hesitates, glancing over her shoulder. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“And,” Deadpool continues, his voice taking on an uncharacteristically serious tone, “I promised my friends here that the TVA could undo some pretty awful shit in their timeline. What would you say to that?”

She looks at us, her gaze thoughtful. “Change the past?”

Deadpool nods. “They did help me save the world.”

B-15’s expression softens, but there’s an edge to her tone as she responds. “And their pasts brought them here today. There’s nothing to fix, Mr. Wilson.”

With that, she steps through her portal, disappearing into the stream of time. The reality of it all settles in—I'm forever chained to this world, this timeline. But somehow, it’s almost comforting to have a place to live again. A world that, despite all the chaos, I’m now part of.

Deadpool breaks the silence. “Shawarma?”

Logan, his voice as gruff as ever, grunts, “I could eat.”

As we step away from the destruction, the world feels both unfamiliar and strangely right. And for the first time in a long time, I feel... at peace.

Next Part

taglist: @oscarissac2099 @somiaw @100percentlazybonez @obsessedwthdilfs @sun7lowxr @corvid007 @aheadfullofsteverogers @raptor192 @bontensbabygirl

[sanjoongie]

𝔻𝕒𝕪 𝕋𝕨𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕪 𝔼𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥: ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕕𝕒𝕥𝕠𝕣/ℙ𝕣𝕖𝕪 & 𝕊𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕘𝕥𝕙 𝕂𝕚𝕟𝕜

🥀Pairing: Trickster! Hongjoong x Perfect Victim! Reader (f)

🥀Genre: Smut

🥀Rating: 18+, Minors Do not Interact, dark material ahead

🥀Au: virtual reality au, dead by daylight au, video game au

🥀Trope: long distance relationship, fwb

🥀Summary: when you and your gaming friend learn about a glitch in one of your favorite games, you exploit it on an erotic level

🥀warnings: mentions of blood, cuts by blade, physical violence in a game

🥀Kinks: Predator/Prey, strength kink, fear kink, cnc, dom! Hongjoong, sub! Reader, sub negotiation mid scene, thigh fucking, blood kink, hair pulling, degradation, knife kink, overstim, penetrative (virtual) sex with no barrier

🥀Word Count: 1,429

🥀Betas: n/a

🥀Day Twenty Seven: Cuckolding🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty Nine: Gang Bang

You almost fell while scrambling off your couch in a hurry to log into your new favorite game. Hongjoong, your gamer friend, had messaged you that he was ready for a game. You fixed your wrists and feet to the anti-mag that would keep your limbs in the right position.

“Game on,” You verbally instructed your VR device and you were transported from your spot in your gaming chair to a dark forest.

Your clothing was your favorite. A shirt that was falling off your shoulder, short shorts and sturdy Doc Marten’s.

GigglingScorpio: Ready? I can see you already~

Your head whipped around to find the telltale sign of Hongjoong: those neon eyes that penetrated the darkness but you could find nothing.

CrazyFangirl: Ready

You ran through the trees, dodging behind rocks, doing your best to create a serpentine path. The worst thing you could do was run in a straight line in this game. Hongjoong was pursuing you as a killer and you as his perfect victim. The game was supposed to play out by Hongjoong finding you, throwing his neon blades at you from afar, or slashing you with a blade mounted to a bat and killing you.

But you two had found a glitch in the system.

You turned a corner, and a haunting lullaby echoed through the forest. Hongjoong was close, closer than you anticipated. If you weren’t careful...

You only had a second to process the soft yellow jacket and neon yellow eyes, and then the blades came. One grazed your arm, the other your upper thigh. Hongjoong could aim for your throat easily but that was not his newfound process. Blood oozed from the superficial wounds and you winced.

You immediately turned in the opposite direction, aiming for the highlighted item ahead of you in the distance. Your hand reached out for the large piece of wood that would block Hongjoong’s direct path to you, intending to push it across the two rocks it was in between.

A soft laugh brushed your ear drums. The noise was gleeful but blood thirsty. “Don’t play dirty without me, honey.”

You grunted and ducked as the piece of wood fell behind you. “Why not? That’s what you like, isn’t it? To watch me play dirty?”

Hongjoong grunted briefly, pushing the offending piece of wood out of the way. “The only dirty game you should be playing is your mouth around my cock. Or licking your own blood off my blade. Not sure which is dirtier, to be honest.”

You took off in a sprint, anything to delay the game, but several quick shicks let you know that Hongjoong was throwing his knives quickly at you. Some hit the trees you ran around, some grazed you again and again.

“Are you horny tonight, Joongie?” You couldn't help but taunt him. “Want my pussy that badly?”

This time Hongjoong’s laugh came out bitter and a bit edgy, like he was barely biting back his anger. “You wait until I have you whining my name with a purpose.”

You laughed, panting with pain and exertion. “Gotta catch me firs--”

Your breath was caught off as Hongjoong suddenly appeared in front of you. His lips were twisted in an evil grin as you bounced off his well-developed chest. “You were saying?”

You quickly turned around from landing on your ass to your hands and knees, scrambling to get back on your feet. Hongjoong swiftly grabbed you by your ankle and launched you back the opposite way. You landed hard a few yards away, watching as your stamina bar dropped the more you were injured.

“Fuck,” You cursed. “Hongjoong! I wanted to run some more!”

Hongjoong stalked towards you, eyes looking dangerous. His upper lip lifted in a slight sneer. “I caught you. The prize is mine.”

“Let’s do another round!” You suggested brightly, “I’m sure I could do bet--”

Hongjoong grabbed you by your upper arms and hauled you to your feet. He pushed you against a tree and began to run his tongue along a scratch on your neck. He hummed in contentment when your hands slipped under his jacket, along his ribs and up to dig your nails into the muscles of his shoulders. “No,” He declined your request.

Hongjoong spun you around so your face was smooshed into the tree's bark. He wriggled your shorts down your leg so that you could neatly step out of them. Once that was done, he yanked your shirt down your arms, the baggy shirt trapping your arms against your body and freeing your tits.

“I know you’re wet from that chase, honey,” Hongjoong purred into your ear. His hands pulled and twisted your nipples, making you cry out in pleasure and pain. “But I do love these an awful lot.”

“I could give you a boob job, come on, Hongjoong!” You pleaded.

“No,” Hongjoong declined again. “I’ll take you on my terms.” Hongjoong tucked a hand onto your lower stomach and was able to raise you with one arm and hold you at the perfect level for him to enter you from behind. Perks of having superhuman strength as a villain in a game.

You breathed in and out evenly, closing your eyes and focusing on how Hongjoong pushed his cock between your closed thighs. “I could use you like this, you know. Take pleasure from your body and give you nothing in return.”

You let your body rest like a ragdoll. “I’m yours, Joongie, I promise.” That was the phrase to let Hongjoong know you were green and good to go in this scenario.

Hongjoong angled his hips so that he could enter you instead of fucking your thighs. You moaned his name, just the way he liked it, and Hongjoong jerked the rest of the way into you. You giggled at his reaction. “I knew it. You were desperate for my pussy tonight.”

“You’re so fucking tight,” Hongjoong groaned. “Fuck.”

Soon, you were joining in with groans of your own. The way Hongjoong could hold you in the air, in place, his palm pressing down on your stomach and his cock hammering into you from behind, really was the perfect fuck. You bled but you soon forgot of the pain compared to the pleasure Hongjoong was giving you.

“Fuck me with that villain dick, Hongjoong, come on, give it to me hard. I want to be gasping your name, I want--” You were quieted by the feeling of the flat of Hongjoong’s dagger against your lips. You could almost see your breath fogging up the neon metal.

“You like the sound of your voice a little too much, honey,” Hongjoong barely veiled his threat.

You simply whimpered in ecstasy as you felt your climax approach. Hongjoong grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head backwards just shy of being painful. “Come for you me, you pretty little slut.”

You shuddered and cried deep in your throat as you came upon command. Pleasure wracked your body and you felt your cum drip down your thighs.

“Such a wet slut at that,” Hongjoong mused out loud. “My turn.”

Hongjoong sliced another cut along your back, making you hiss in pain and whimper at the over-stim of his cock still working in and out of you. You heard him hum as his tongue came out to lick along your shoulder blade, tracing the new cut. His hips did not stop for a second behind you and then Hongjoong came with a grunt. He continued to grunt as he thrusted through his orgasm and stopped just shy of you pushing through the overstim and moving to the better side of pleasure once again.

“Fuck, I’ll never get tired of that,” Hongjoong cursed. He let you down so your feet could touch the ground after pulling out but you almost immediately crumbled to the ground, legs like jello. He chuckled at your reaction. “Is that from the running or from me, honey?”

You half laughed and half groaned. “You’re hilarious.”

“You think we could do a round two? I’ve got a new cosmetic, it’s very cyberpunk-esque,” Hongjoong asked, offering you a hand up.

Do you want to start a new game?

You watched as the words blinked on your screen.

“Hell yeah I do,” You replied resolutely.

Hongjoong hooted, and the scene reset. This time, he had clothes on with neon highlights, a neon stick, and blue hair. He grinned, and you felt your heart beat and your nether reagion gush wetness immedilatey. Yeah, this was going to be a long gaming night.

🥀Day Twenty Seven: Cuckolding🥀Mini Masterlist 🥀Day Twenty Nine: Gang Bang

[gaypornvideoswebsite]

i’ve witnessed some organizational “failure” as a result of what i believe is this manufactured urgency and resistance to critique. this urgency also heightens isolation, and for many makes it feel difficult to voice their opinions and ideas. the result of this are movements not built to last, and shaky foundations. radical movements have been usurped by the state repeatedly through history, but many of us are now playing by the CIA op handbook on our own. read your books, engage with people, learn the history to allow ourselves to act swiftly. if we do not build something ourselves, we will end up relying on state structures to enact “change”, and further perpetuate western imperialism.

also, to be called divisive or derailing in groups organizing primarily minimally disruptive protest actions is nuts. but i digress.

—

[Image ID:

Image 1: Cartoon letters that read “manufactured urgency and resistance to critique” above a cartoon person gripping their head in distress.

Image 2: Text that reads “a term often hsed in organizational work culture, it is the pressure to act quickly instead of thoughtfully in order to meet deadlines. Corinne L. Mason also uses this to discuss the development of anti-violence policies that are technocratic, depoliticized, and ineffective towards the women they claim to help. Manufacturing Urgency, U of R Press, 2017.”

Image 3: Cartoon lettering that reads “isolation limits our ability to organize” above a cartoon person staring at their phone with a look of distress alone in the dark.

Image 4: Text that reade “manufactured urgency also makes us resistant to critique.” Below a cartoon person has their speech interrupted by other speech bubbles that read “there is a genocide! You are derailing!” and “don’t be divisive!”

Image 5: Text that reads “openness to critique is necessary to build our solidarity! We have time to…” Below is a cartoon of three characters holding hands wearing shirts that read “learn, build, and sustain.”

Image 6: Text that reads “no one is seeking perfection. We are seeking to develop solodarity that will last our entire lives.”

End ID]

[jensettermandu]

-𝙜𝙤𝙤𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙩𝙤 𝙝𝙚𝙖𝙫𝙚𝙣, 𝙗𝙖𝙙 𝙜𝙞𝙧𝙡𝙨 𝙜𝙤 𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙮𝙬𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚-

-𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙣𝙚𝙧𝙨-

1.5

previous - m.list - next

𝘨!𝘱 𝘫𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘦 𝘹 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

content warning; MDNI, morally grey characters, toxic relation/situationships, domestic abuse, violence, substance use/abuse, mentions of weight/toxic beauty standards, dubcon, a lot of smut (spitting, spanking, bondage, choking, rough sex, etc. appears), age gap (legal), mentions of sensitive topics, not made for glorification of toxic relationships.

wc; 18k+ (sorry, it's just this chapter, a lot of smut ig :/)

[Present]

Jennie groaned at the hands that were tugging on her hair as she kissed along the girl's inner thighs, taking in the scent of lotion that was lingering all over the vixen's skin. Her patience was running thin though with the impatient girl who kept whining and telling her to fuck her already. The more dirty words that Y/n spewed the more her cock pulsed with need, but it didn't make her hurry up.

"What're you doing?" Y/n murmured, getting pissed when Jennie pulled away fully from her. Her eyes trailed Jennie who was still in her sweats and shirt, the print of her dick was prominent as she didn't have anything else besides the sweats on. All that Y/n was left in were the soaked-through cheeky underwear. Lying exposed and waiting for Jennie to do what she asked for, each little thing had started to leave her mind, not caring about whose hands her fate was left in. It didn't matter what she did since it wasn't in her own hands.

With her eyes on what she needed, Jennie moved up, getting on top of Y/n and straddling her waist. "Taking full control." She simply answered and Y/n's head tilted back to see Jennie grab hold of the fairy lights. Before she had the time to ask or complain, Jennie yanked them off the headboard, the plug getting ripped out of the output all at the same time as they clattered.

"What the fuck?"

"You're not fooling anyone, they just collect dust."

Y/n was about to push herself up, but the air got knocked out of her when Jennie's palm landed against the clavicle right above her chest. She forced her back down and quickly grabbed hold of her wrists.

"Jennie–"

"Make it easy for me and stop struggling because I am not going to stop, Y/n."

"It will fucking hurt and bruise."

The complaints were for nothing, Jennie wasn't listening to her at all and Y/n was unable to move because the woman was straddling her and putting all her weight on her. She started to wrap them around her wrists after forcing them above her head.

"That's exactly what it's supposed to do, hurt, but you will be too fucked to notice it in a while."

It was making Y/n's heart rate spike up, she could never know what Jennie had on her mind, but that was all part of it. It made everything more enjoyable. The fact that at each turn was either heaven or hell, it didn't matter what it was because she always ended up in the middle after a while. Her eyes looked at Jennie, hissing at the tightness of the string and the lights digging into her skin. The older's eyes focused on tying it around her wrists, only shooting a glance at Y/n.

The woman got off of the tied-up girl after making sure she wouldn't be able to get out of the lights wrapped around her small wrists. She grabbed the rest of the string and moved over to the headboard where the girl had installed anti-shake because of how wobbly it was and the complaints from the neighbour of banging late at night. It had only started when Jennie began showing up more often at her place after Asher would leave for practice and tournaments, trusting Y/n to keep his home a home and not invite others. 

"That's unnecessary," Y/n grumbled as her hands were forced to stay above her head, her fingers threaded into the sheets, trying her best to ease the numbing feeling in her fingers as Jennie had made them too tight. She should have known that the woman wouldn't care at all when she asked her to not leave any bruises. Jennie never cared about these things, she always had to do it her way to prove that she was in charge and that Y/n never had any true say in anything. When they parted ways, something was always bruised, either her hips, waist, wrists and at times throat because Jennie didn't seem to control her strength. At times it worked more as a turn-off than anything else because it left her dissociating because of the pain.

"Better than having a needy whore tugging, scratching and pulling on me because she can't go a minute without being stuffed by my cock." Y/n watched as Jennie's tongue poked out at the corner of her lips, toying with it as she looked at the girl she had gotten all tied up. That control it gave her surged right through her each vein before shooting to her cock. It gave her a higher sense of herself. Y/n was all for her to ruin. 

No matter what, her gaze always made Y/n feel like prey. She could see by the look in Jennie's eyes what went through her head. How bad it was, and how much worse it was that she still stayed to watch it happen despite knowing what was going to happen. How she would regret it one day and it would be too late to go back to normal because this was her normal now. 

Her palm planted beside her head as she sat beside her on the bed. Her eyes trailed into the eyes that always held something different. The way they got so empty at times, it was as if Y/n wasn't even in the same room as her. She loved how broken the girl was, how she had broken her because this wasn't the same person she met almost five months ago. This was the person she had made out of her. This was her broken star that would always shine in her eyes. It was almost close enough to make Jennie feel bad about what she had done to Y/n and her life. Y/n was so empty, she was just like Jennie, and Jennie couldn't help but want a person that was just like her. 

"Show me your pretty tongue," Jennie coaxed, her other hand running over the girl's cleavage. The skin was warm, smooth and soft under her palm, she could feel the pounding of her heart when she brushed over the spot where it was resting. That spot where she didn't belong but still made herself comfortable.

Y/n swallowed before opening her mouth and showing off her tongue, the one that Jennie loved having in her mouth or working around her cock. Her hand reached her slim throat and she gently wrapped her hand around it. There was no going back. That had never been an option. Jennie has had her choking grip around Y/n's throat since they met and she was the only one she could rely on to breathe. She couldn't breathe without Jennie, she was the air Y/n needed, and would always die just to breathe. 

Jennie leaned forward, her hair falling around them as her thumb caressed Y/n's pulse point, the veins throbbing under her fingers. She could feel them pound harder and faster the closer she got when she let her spit fall on the girl's tongue before she leaned over to her ear. She could feel the girl shiver in the hold that she had on her when her lips brushed her ears.

"Swallow."

It took no more and Y/n swallowed the warm spit Jennie had let fall into her mouth. It was all shooting even more heat to her clit as her bent knees touched and she tried to get some sort of friction at how uncomfortable it was to not have anything done about her arousal.

"I'm so wet for you." She whined.

Jennie was busy kissing along her ear which was making the girl squirm as she hummed into it before tugging with her teeth at the top.

"Do you want me to eat you out? To lick at your pussy until your legs are shaking?"

"Please."

The words were doing unimaginable things to the girl as she couldn't think straight from how overwhelming it was starting to get. Jennie pulled away and looked at the girl whose eyes were turning docile, begging her with just her eyes as she had a small frown. Y/n willingly became the lamb to Jennie's lion, doing everything just to be eaten up until there wasn't anything left of her, not even a single bone as Jennie was always greedy and took everything, leaving nothing for anyone else.

"I will, under one condition."

Her eyes eagerly watched the woman who reached for her wallet, waiting for whatever the condition would be. It made her stomach drop in the worst way possible. Those colourful pills were grey this time. That control she thought she would have when she first started to take these drugs was all gone. She knew she wouldn't deny it. Her brain was already suffering from how she had taken ecstasy a good five times in just two months. She had yet to recover from last month. Y/n had no control and it was eating at her, Jennie maybe had some control, but what truly had her in a chokehold were the drugs. 

They controlled her life.

"Grey Maserati, we share one because they are dosed at 300 each."

"It will keep me up."

She tried to reason, but Jennie was already taking out one of the five pills in the small zip-lock bag. Nothing was stopping her, Y/n hadn't said no, but just thrown out a reason. She always threw reasons but had a hard time saying no, especially to Jennie, especially to drugs. 

"To around 3 or 4 am since it's already 11, your friends are coming late."

The sound of the pill being broken in half shot to her ears and she looked down as Jennie put the two halves of one pill onto her heaving stomach before she reached for the bottled water on the bedside table. She didn't want it but she couldn't either say no as she watched Jennie take the grey pill into her mouth and wash it down with water. The older woman took the other pill that lay on Y/n's warm stomach and turned fully to the girl.

She couldn't figure out why she couldn't just say no. She wanted to say no, but the urge to say yes was stronger despite knowing the consequences. Her days were already filled with dread, with the doom of one of these days being the last because she couldn't say no. It was hard to say no to something that made her life bearable, to something that made it okay even if it was for five hours before it got worse than it was before she took them.

"Open up, I will make you feel even better, baby. Trust me, it's what you need." She reassured her and Y/n already knew how much better it would all feel. Her mouth opened, and the chemicals spread on her tongue as she waited for Jennie to give her the water too. Jennie loved it when they were both drowning in substances, it made everything so much easier in her life and she knew it was the same for the girl. It worked, it made everything work and feel better. The water spilled from the corners of her lips, the cold running down to the sheets and she swallowed with no turning back.

It felt hopeless in her world. It truly felt like there was no turning back no matter how much she would cry for the past to not take the turns it did. What she could do was try to cry for a better future, but it overwhelmed her. So the only option left was to live in the present and possibly not have a future. 

She put the stuff back onto the bedside table and took the girl's hair tie, putting her hair up. Jennie wasted no more time as she got back to where she had been from the start, her hands running over Y/n's knees and making the girl spread her legs for her. It would kick in within a good 15 to 30 minutes and the arousal they both felt at the moment would increase and everything would feel much better.

The pain would be gone.

The agony, and despair. 

The dread of tomorrow and the doom followed by what happened before what's to come. 

It would all go away.

She was fixing her broken star, she was taking all the pain away by placing herself between her legs after removing her underwear, taking the pain away with the drugs, sex, and alcohol.

Jennie was fixing her selfishly, she was fixing Y/n for when she was there. Jennie was making sure that the girl would only be fixed when she was there, to live in the delusion that she would only feel good when Jennie was there. That when she wasn't there her life was painful and empty and that only Jennie filled those painful voids. It always worked because she would feel even worse tomorrow and Jennie wouldn't be there and the pain would be associated with her loneliness and not Jennie.

The two were addicted to it all.

Whatever mindless sex it was, it turned into a game.

Jennie held back the groan that wanted to push past her throat when her hard dick pressed against the mattress as she laid down on her stomach. She licked her lips, unable to control the way her hips bucked at the view of the pink and wet pussy in front of her, glistening with slickness.

Y/n closed her eyes, fingers gripping onto the sheets as she drowned in Jennie's lips softly kissing along her inner thighs. Her one leg was guided over Jennie's shoulder as she wrapped her arm around the other. Lips gently dragged along her skin, leaving them quivering in anticipation, teeth nipping and dragging over her. It was all there, slowly bringing her to the best place in her dark world. A small gasp followed at the slick tongue that licked up her folds, the firm and warm muscle dragging over her cunt.

Jennie drowned in the taste of the girl, something she had grown addicted to as she could eat her out for hours. She hummed and dipped her head once again, the tip of her tongue teasing around the clenching and leaking hole before she licked back up, gathering the wetness around the swollen clit she circled. It elicited a light moan from the girl who arched her back and tried to push her hips further into Jennie's face–to no avail.

She trailed her hand over the slim stomach that got sucked in at the touch, running back and caressing her thigh. Her tongue still working through her folds, teasing her clit. Lost all again. Jennie's lips wrapped around one of the lips, sucking on it gently–it was all making Y/n let out sighs, whines, whimpers, and moans. She was sensitive to Jennie's touch, so sensitive to it, that it always made her vocal, sounding like she was in bliss which she was. Her mouth continued to work languidly through the girl's aching cunt. The slickness slowly becoming a mess around her mouth and she loved every second of it. 

"Jen, please."

"Tell me what you need, baby."

She mumbled, her lips brushing over the girl's skin and she looked up from between her legs. Y/n's chest heaved, her stomach sucked in and she lay at the perfect arch with her eyes on the ceiling. She planted kisses along her inner thighs, waiting for the response while nuzzling into the warm skin that was scented like flowers. 

"I need you."

"Do you?" Jennie asked to make sure that she was all that Y/n needed. 

Y/n hummed at those words, something between a whine and hum as she closed her eyes in anticipation, tugging on the restraints on her wrists. Jennie could feel her body tense up at the anticipation as she pulled into her.

It was all that Jennie wanted and needed to hear as she went right back, her tongue slowly dragging up once again, the thighs tensing around her. A breathy moan fell from Y/n's plump lips when Jennie wrapped her lips around her clit. Her tongue flicked at the bundle of sensitive nerves, her tongue skillfully working the girl whose breathing picked up in seconds. It wasn't hard to know what the girl liked, Jennie had taken her time to take notice of every reaction and knew what made her scream. She had learned the way Y/n's body functioned. 

The vixen hummed, her back arching as she pushed herself more into Jennie's face, the way the warm and smooth tongue continued to flick at her clit in just the right direction was making her stomach tingle. Her wrists twisted, unable to open her eyes as she was buried deep in the pleasure. Jennie's messy eating of her cunt filled her ears as the woman between her legs was moaning herself. Her tongue lapped up the slickness, smearing it and flicking at her swollen clit like it was what would save her life. 

"So good, it feels so good– your tongue is so fucking good."

Her hips stuttered, unsure of what to do as she was losing control of her body, Jennie harshly suckled, her face buried deep between Y/n's legs, trying to get impossibly closer. A whimper followed and Jennie pulled away, her nose rubbing against the swollen clit as her tongue worked to get more juices to get them up. It smeared on her chin, her tongue not stopping for a second as she came back up and pressed her tongue against the throbbing clit. Her hands gripped tightly onto Y/n's thighs, squeezing the flesh in them and pulling her harshly back down as her hips were lifting, fingertips digging into the girl's skin as Jennie got just as lost in it. 

"I love your mouth."

"You taste so good, I want to live between your thighs," Jennie grumbled in between the strokes of her tongue, her lips coming right back and tightly wrapping around the bud. She tugged on it gently before flicking at it as fast as she could before slowing down. The thighs around her head were quivering more and more, each moan becoming louder and more beautiful than the other. Jennie's cock was throbbing as her body started to get warmer and her hips gently moved, slowly humping the mattress as she couldn't contain herself when eating Y/n's cunt out and listening to the sounds.

Her movements increased, Y/n's body running hot at the warmth of Jennie against her. Her body being held down by the woman as she was slowly losing control. It didn't matter where it was but Jennie always held her down. Y/n's breath hitched, and her eyes closed as the heat became stronger at how Jennie was fucking her using her mouth. It burned, it burned but in the best way possible as the cries were starting to fly out of her mouth unable to hold back.

"Oh my God, fuck–" Y/n's breath fell short, her body convulsing as the orgasm crept up on her. Her thighs shook around Jennie, her back arching, the woman making sure to hold her down as she looked up through her lashes at the dark-haired vixen who was assaulted by the intense orgasm. She pulled onto the restraints, her hands closing into fists as her vision flashed with white, her ears ringing, and any control of her voice was lost as the train of high-pitched moans came out from her parted lips together with Jennie's name.

She heaved, panting for air after not taking in any oxygen for what felt like a good minute but was a few long seconds. Her body didn't get to relax as Jennie wanted to hear her moan her name like that again and continued to abuse her clit with her tongue. Y/n's walls were pulsating, tears gathering in her eyes and spilling from the corners as she tried to find the words to tell her to stop as it was painfully and pleasurably coming right back before she could fully come down.

Her clit was in pain, her walls going through painful aftershocks and Jennie continued to flick at her. Her brain was unable to choose what to feel as her body felt overwhelmed, heating, heart pounding like bricks being dropped on her ribcage. Y/n tried to pull her hips away but she had nowhere to go as Jennie was holding onto her tightly. The whimpers that left Y/n's mouth drove her further, her heat pressing against the mattress while throwing Y/n off an edge she had no clue would come. This time Jennie's name left her in a cry of that line between heaven and hell, it wasn't as intense, but it was painful.

Jennie slowly stopped moving her tongue and kissed her abused bud, it was enough to make Y/n jolt and hum a whine. She moved down, licking up whatever she could as Y/n panted under her, feeling the legs continuously tensing up and relaxing.

"Too much," Y/n tiredly mumbled and the brunette finally pulled away, unable to do more than to use her words as she was held back in all ways. She was powerless and at Jennie's mercy.

Jennie groaned at how uncomfortably erect she was as she had been so for a good 30 minutes now. She had started to grow hard when Y/n had gotten back to the room. Her hand grabbed hold of her thick cock through the sweats, gently caressing it as she used the collar of her shirt and lifted it to wipe her chin and mouth from whatever was left glistening on her.

She finally opened her eyes and looked at Jennie who was already looking at her, Y/n's pupils were already blown and covering all of the grey, leaving them pitch black. It was like looking at someone in a trance, her eyes were drawing Jennie in. Jennie loved everything dead and messed up, especially if she got to further play with it. 

Y/n pulled her legs further up and closed them to try and ease the aftershocks as her stomach was cramping. "It hurts." She complained and Jennie looked over the naked body in front of her before she looked at Y/n's flushed face. Her own body was already warm and she reached for the hem of her shirt, pulling it off, knowing that the E had managed to kick in just a good minute or two ago for her.

"Everything good comes with something bad," she mumbled and those words drilled themselves into their heads. 

"Do you need anything?" Jennie asked as she got off the bed, tossing the shirt onto the chair and walking over to the window. She cracked it open slightly to let in fresh and cool air.

That soft cloud engulfed her body and she felt those feelings she always buried deep and suppressed in herself. The one she would force behind a door whose room was filled to the brim, everything desperately trying to push out but she desperately held it all back. Jennie wasn't supposed to feel, she had learned to be numb and wanted nothing more than to continue it. Although, the problem was that certain things had started to bring her warmth and she had started to long for it every time it went away because somehow she grew fond. Of Y/n.

That cloud of ecstasy formed around her body, hugging her until her body was clammy and each strand of her was standing and taking everything with so much intensity. It coaxed everything out of her and her eyes drifted away from the reflection of herself that she caught in the window where the dark city was illuminated by lights. She swallowed the lump. 

"Remove them, it's hurting,"

"I can loosen them, but they are staying."

Y/n frowned, feeling her body drown into the mattress that was caressing her like feathers. The only thing ruining it was the restraints around her wrists. Jennie walked over to the bed and sat down beside her.

"Why not?"

"'Cause I said so," Jennie answered, her fingers running along Y/n's arms until she reached the lights wrapped around her wrists. She pushed her fingers under them and tugged, slowly loosening them around her and Y/n could feel the blood somewhat flowing back.

"Pretty, star." She whispered and leaned down, catching Y/n's soft lips with hers, melting into each other with sighs falling from their lips as their tongues met. It was so soft, it felt like heaven all over again, it felt good and Jennie opened her mouth further, swallowing Y/n whole who moaned into the kiss. She ran a hand over Y/n's body, exploring the skin that was like silk until she reached her chest and cupped a breast in her hand. Her fingers tugged at the pierced nipples, Y/n moaning and pushing her chest further into her as Jennie toyed around with her chest and nipples.

Their heads tilted, taking each other further in, Y/n sucking on Jennie's tongue, making the older groan and squeeze her breast in her hand. Y/n's whimpers were muffled by the way Jennie was pushing inside her mouth, the two unable to get enough of the softness and wetness that felt too good to be true. Jennie's fingers nimbly worked on Y/n's nipples, tugging on them, pinching and toying around.

She pulled away and looked Y/n in her eyes that were like diamonds, worth more, they were unobtainable stars and held all the life and emotions to them now. It would then all wash away and leave them lifeless again. She loved watching it happen, she was always there. 

Jennie pulled away fully, her heart picking up once again into an unsteady rhythm and she grabbed the water, unscrewing it and taking a few sips as Y/n squirmed beside her. She then proceeded to slowly pour some into the younger one's mouth before placing it right back and standing up.

She couldn't wait much longer as she stripped out of the sweats she had on. Her bright red tip was leaking with precum, Y/n's eyes trained on the thick and long cock that always stretched her out in a painful way unless Jennie was nice enough to stretch her out beforehand with her fingers...It didn't seem to be the case as the brunette let her hair back down and got on the bed.

Y/n tried to twist and looked at the bedside table. "Jennie, the condom." She reminded her that she didn't have any protection.

"We don't need it."

Y/n closed her knees together and Jennie grabbed hold of them.

"We do."

"No, we don't and you know it. Whatever you're trying to do isn't going to help your dignity, baby." Jennie forced her knees apart and held her legs spread as Y/n tried to push her away. The struggle was minimal and the girl slowly got on top of her by forcing her to hold them open, now leaving her completely unable to even try and close her legs.

"Please, Jennie." Y/n pleaded, inhaling deeply as it left her in an even bigger conflict. What was happening was horrible enough, but all she wanted was to save a piece of her dignity and not let them get to a part that's that intimate, something she only let her boyfriend do. She exhaled with her eyes on the ceiling, unable to think clearly as the warm emotions were too strong, that forbidden thing winning over her each time.

"I can pull out."

"No."

Jennie ignored the girl as she kissed along her neck, her cock resting heavily against her cunt as she slowly moved her hips, her scalding dick getting covered in the slick. Her eyes closed as the pleasure felt too good to be allowed for a human to feel. Despite bringing out all those suppressed emotions, it cured her of everything and let her feel happy, it removed the pain. That serotonin and oxytocin was spreading through her whole body from top to bottom. She sighed and stopped, resting her face in the crook of Y/n's neck as she took calming breaths.

"It will be fine and feel better, you want me to fuck you don't you?"

"I do, but not without a condom."

"You don't trust me, do you?" She whispered into her neck, sighing again as her weight completely settled on Y/n and she snuggled closer. Gently wrapping her lips around Y/n's warm skin, sucking it before letting go and licking. "Do you trust me, Y/n?" She questioned, the question was genuine and not just about this as their bodies grew warmer together. A hot puff of breath fanned Y/n's neck who was going through a battle that was lost before it even got to start–all those no's she's always said, they were impossible to say when all those things got freed. She always caved into Jennie because the woman broke down every barrier she tried to put up. 

"I do, but this has nothing to do with trust." She didn't know when Jennie forced her walls down, but she trusted the woman, but she had no clue if that was the right choice. She trusted her with certain things. She trusted Jennie with her dignity, her biggest secret, with her body, and she trusted her with her shame and self-hatred even if Jennie trampled all over her at times. The behaviour got excused in Y/n's head because the woman took her for the person that she is so the least she could do was take Jennie as she is.

"Let me, I want to feel you raw without anything in the way."

She started to pepper kisses along her skin, pushing herself up on her forearms. Jennie pulled away and looked up at the girl. Y/n's heart was picking up once again as she looked into Jennie's eyes that were gazing into hers with what she only got to see when the woman was fucked up on drugs. That was the only time she could see something in her eyes aside from all those negative emotions. There was something genuine in them, but she couldn't tell what exactly it was and she couldn't tell if she wanted to know either. It scared her, Jennie scared her when it came to certain things.

Jennie was scared of whatever that was. 

Y/n's back arched, a gasp falling from her lips as she pulled onto the restraints, thighs tensing up around Jennie when the painful stretch came. Jennie removed her hand from between them as she had pushed her tip inside, her whole body shuddering at the feeling and she let out a muffled whine. It made her catch Y/n's parted lips, shoving her tongue into her mouth.

Her breaths turned ragged as she did her best to slowly fill the girl up and give her time to adjust this time. Y/n's walls were warm and slick, throbbing around her, greedily sucking her in. The cock slowly split her open and pushed further. Jennie's mouth trailed off, kissing along her cheek and jawline, pulling out before pushing in once again, doing her best to not ram her whole cock inside the tight walls right away. The vixen's sopping pussy snugly gripped onto her dick, clasping around her and clenching.

Y/n's chest heaved, picking up as she fell to the deepest pits of pleasure and pain. Jennie's warmth right on top of her and inside her, feeling her deeper and deeper with each slow thrust. The girl was able to feel each detail, the moment driving her further into despair of what would be after. However, it clouded her mind the way Jennie was moving her hips in fluid motions, inching deeper and deeper with each thrust and being able to feel the throbbing of her vein and the way her tip was curved and rubbed perfectly against her g-spot. 

"You're taking me so well, like a good girl, no matter how many times I fuck your tight little pussy you're still so tight, baby." She mumbled, her head dropping into the crook of Y/n's neck when she filled her to the brim. She hummed at the feeling of nothing being between them, having her leaking member stuffed in Y/n's pussy, feeling everything so much better.

"Jennie–" Y/n whined and the latter moved her head up, slowly rolling her hips. She fell short of breath at the feeling of Jennie's dick raw in her cunt. Able to feel every little texture of her cock, from the vein to the pulsating of her tip, how it dragged against her walls and she tugged onto the restraints, whining. Jennie was so deep that it hurt in a way she was used to and found pleasure in now, touching those sensitive spots deep within her and fucking until her stomach hurt. Jennie knew how to make her feel many things.

"What is it, baby?"

"Take them off, please, I want to hold you, please."

By the way Y/n's breathing picked up she could tell that she was losing her patience and the frustrations were flooding in. She clenched her jaw as she reached her hand up, still rolling her hips against the girls, each thrust deep and hard. With some struggling, they loosened and Y/n managed to slip her wrists out. What Jennie thought would be the girl pushing her away was Y/n wrapping her arms under her arms with nails digging into her back.

"It feels so good, fuck your cock feels so good, Jennie...I love it, I love how you fuck me."

It was enough to shoot it all to the woman's cock, making it twitch with some of the words. Jennie's jaw clasped and she balled up the sheets in her fists. Another gasp escaped Y/n's mouth when the thrusts turned rough, Jennie wanted nothing more than to ruin the girl as she slammed her cock inside her, pistoning in and out of her squelching pussy. It felt like she had gotten enough adjusting. The vixen's moans were fueling the frenzy that she had fallen into, breath ragged and the bed and Y/n squeaked with each harsh thrust.

Those low and carnal-like guttural moans and groans came right from between Jennie's lips. "Tell me how good it feels, fucking tell me, Y/n. Say it all because I fucking own you and your pussy. Only I can make you feel these things." Her harsh words were spoken by the whimpering girl's ear, Jennie getting lost between the pain of nails painting her skin red and soft, velvety walls clenching around her, suffocating her cock in the best kind of way. There was no other place she would rather be, no other person to be with, no other girl to fuck. 

"It hurts, but it hurts so good,"

Her pelvic bone slapped against Y/n's skin and she reached her hand down, grabbing hold of her thigh and making her wrap it around her waist. She fucked deeper into her, fucking deep enough to let Y/n feel her where she never thought she would feel anyone. Her lips found her neck, not caring what the girl wanted as she sucked on the damp skin, licking and biting. The younger girl was unable to register any of it as she was being nailed to the mattress, her teeth digging into Jennie's shoulder at how it was all coming over her.

The bed found itself squeaking more for mercy, Y/n whining at how her whole body moved with each thrust. It hurt, but the incoming orgasm was washing it away and her brain had a hard time registering what to focus on. Jennie's thick length was spreading her, each thrust only making the mess bigger, leaving the vixen's thighs to tremble and hips to push into the older for more. It was too much yet too difficult to push her away when she felt Jennie's tip hit deep within her, the wet slapping got louder and hurt as it left them both sore. 

Jennie's moans turned more breathy the longer she pounded into Y/n, trying her best to keep herself from busting already. The exhaustion was taken in rather quickly yet she continued to push to make the feeling last longer. 

Her whole body tensed up with each thrust, twisting the sheets in her hands with veins bulging as she pulled away to look at Y/n. The girl's face was twisted into something that made Jennie groan at how her head was thrown back, chest pushing into her as it moved with each thrust. Lips parted, spilling those erotic moans that drove Jennie more carnal, sweat covering them both. Y/n could feel the muscles flex under her palms with each of Jennie's movements, nails only further digging into the woman's back for grip.

"I'm so close–" Y/n breathed out, the rest of the words getting stuck in her throat as she couldn't control the moans. The lewd sounds of their conjoined heat, moaning, and skin slapping were all bouncing off the walls.

"Can you feel how my cock stretches you? Feel how deep inside you I am baby, I could fucking knock you up right away, have you take all my cum, my babies, make you a mommy the way you call me daddy, hm? "Jennie grabbed hold of Y/n's forearm, pulling away the hand from her back that was stinging as the sweat that covered her body got in the fresh scratch marks. She grabbed hold of the top of her hand and guided it between their bodies as she looked up at the girl whose eyes were hooded, barely kept open.

"Fuck." Y/n exclaimed at the pressure Jennie put on her lower stomach using her hand as she held hers above Y/n's, the cock deep in her hitting her g-spot much better when she pressed down. Each deep thrust into her she could feel her stomach bulge out because of the deep penetration that Jennie provided with her length. Y/n was slowly at the edge and ready to fall off and Jennie could tell that she was right there from how the moans turned into whiny almost cries.

The girl's body convulsed and Jennie looked down at her as she threw her head back, her back arching and she could feel how much her pussy was thudding around her cock. The tight cunt clasped even tighter around her as Y/n cried out a moan, making Jennie groan into the air. Nails dug even deeper into her back and both her thighs shook around the woman.

She let go of Y/n's hand and reached further down, finding the swollen clit with ease and quickly rubbed circles to give her a better orgasm. The moans turned to whiny ones, sounding so light and erotic that Jennie's balls tightened and her erect member hardened more, ready to spill all of her cum. 

Y/n's ears were muffled, and her vision went white as she got lost with no control over her body once again. The warmth was so strong that it felt like her body would melt from how good it felt, being ten times more intense than the other two. Her body was flying from the euphoria. Jennie flexed her stomach, ignoring the banging coming from the neighbour as she could only focus on the girl who was making her heart pick up at how close she was, with her breathing becoming harsh and deep.

As the moans died down she slowed down her pace and only stopped fully once Y/n was whimpering in discomfort under her. She did her best and pulled out right on time as she sat back on her heels. Her lips parted as her moans fell soundless, one stroke and her dick spurted cum all over the pink and sticky pussy where her eyes were trained with her hips stuttering into her hand. Jennie's whole body heaved with each breath, covered in a sheen of sweat, leaving her clammy and exhausted.

"Oh fuck–" This time a whimper fell from her lips, shooting more cum than she expected, her dick throbbing in her hand until the only thing happening was the cum that was left was oozing out of her tip.

Jennie slumped back, her dick growing limp, trying her best to figure out what she was feeling as the emotions felt almost foreign and they always did with the vixen–making her feel things she never did with anyone else. 

The only sounds were their heavy breaths, the one more thud from the other side of the wall and something along the lines of 'shut the fuck up' before it was just them. She took Y/n's hand and helped her up when the girl started to push herself up. Wordlessly she grabbed the girl's shirt that was still on the bed and quickly wiped off her cum from her before throwing the shirt to the side.

"Thank you."

"Don't thank me."

Jennie mumbled as she sat back and pulled Y/n to her, pulling her legs over her own as hers were spread out. She let go of her thighs and reached out to cup her face, her thumb caressing her skin as she pulled her in. "You're beautiful," the woman whispered and kissed her lips. Y/n's hands found their way to Jennie's neck, palms running over her skin that was scorching under her palms. The two took in the feeling that was like brushing feathers gently over their bodies as they without any particular lust soothed each other's bodies and lips.

That rough world, the lust, and those carnal desires disappeared and all that was left was the longing for something deeper. Something that could soothe the pain that lingered on their sore bodies. It was enough to forgive and forget without any words, not caring about any mistakes when they came with this after. It soothed, it got rid of the loneliness they both shared, that emptiness deep within them that they filled with this and hatred.

They pulled away, and Jennie ran her thumb over Y/n's eyebrow, trailing her thumb over her nose, their faces still mere inches away. They gazed into each other's euphoric eyes, stars sparkling, eyes black as massive black holes, sucking each other in. Her thumb ran down further to her plump and pink lips that felt like pillows. Jennie let go of her face and grabbed hold of the hands on the sides of her neck.

"I just want to hold you." She mumbled as there was no stronger desire in her than holding the girl close to her for hours on end. To hold her and keep her right beside herself. She wanted nothing more than to be affectionate with the girl and not just fuck her. Sex wasn't on her mind anymore as she gently kissed the red wrists, soothing them as she gently rubbed them with her thumbs. That desire to make her feel safe because Jennie knew that even if she hurt her, she could make her feel safe, she could make her feel warmth and content. That was all she wanted to do for Y/n even if it was for the night. To make up for the cold ones she wasn't there.

Y/n watched, basking in the feeling as the affection felt overwhelmingly good, not wanting more than for Jennie to leave soft kisses all over her body and hug her. Nothing felt better than when she was high with Jennie. When she was with Jennie in general. Because even if she made her feel the best but also the worst type of things; made her cry, break down and want to die as that felt like the only way out, at least she made her feel. She made her feel that high before it all came crashing down and she couldn't leave it alone because, despite all the bad, only Jennie could bring her back up to that euphoric high without any drugs.

The older left those kisses that she wanted, kissing her wrists softly, in a way no one else ever had even if they needed or didn't need to be soothed. It warmed her from the inside out.

Jennie had all the control because Y/n was addicted to the highs she brought her before she took them away. It left her waiting, anticipating for the woman to give her them again, each time coming to a high before then crashing back down and going through an unbearable comedown. The loneliest she felt was when she was coming down, that was when she needed Jennie the most. It was worse than drugs. Whatever Jennie did and gave her felt better than drugs but tore her apart in the long run much worse than any substance. The vixen couldn't stop chasing after the rush the brunette was able to provide though.

It was an intensity that they both always craved, too far gone in the toxicity of each other to part ways. It had burned their skin and damaged it too much to be able to go back to normal if the scars were to stay forever. It had left them both so ugly together. The longer they stayed the more lost they got and the worse it became and they knew it. They knew how bad it was as they brought out the worst in each other. However, whenever they looked at it; at the ugly in one another, they both just found it more beautiful and addicting every time.

Their flaws felt flawless.

It was a rush that they were addicted to. The constant feelings of being on the edge before falling off and then climbing back up to the edge and waiting for the fall to come again even if it was painful. It was a game of bringing each other up before bringing each other down again.

Y/n hated Jennie because of the control that she had and only let Y/n touch the control now and then. It left the vixen deluded into thinking that she had some sort of control when most of the time it was Jennie.

[Three weeks ago]

"It was so weird," Lisa mumbled and Y/n hummed confused at those words as she handed the lit joint over to her friend. She blinked her eyes off the dryness and reached for the iced tea on the coffee table.

"What was?" The vixen knew that Lisa always had something weird on her mind after smoking, but she couldn't know what it would be this time. She had come over an hour ago and not empty-handed. At this point, if the girl tried to stay away from pills and powders, weed seemed to get her mind off of those things, but barely as she still found herself craving for it more than for food when starving. It felt like she would die if she didn't get a dose. It was itching.

Y/n glanced at her phone when it went off, seeing that it was Ash saying he had arrived–visiting his mother for the weekend. She'd reply later. Y/n's excuse was not feeling good and deciding it would be better to stay. The real excuse would be that she would feel ashamed to see his parents in the state that she was in, she would feel ashamed if she was high around them. Even more ashamed to look them in the eye all while knowing that she was cheating on their son.

At least they had talked it all out after the Summerfest ended and she still felt the relief of knowing that he didn't break up with her but still loved her. That they would fix what wasn't working out and it was all back to normal. They were, but not Y/n.

She felt stuck in a place of hopelessness, and dread, and without the will to live anymore.

"You were weird– you're just being weird in general. Are you okay?"

It made Y/n chuckle as she put her drink back down, but her body language said it all as she pulled her feet up on the couch and her knees to her chest. She closed herself off visibly as Lisa's eyes gazed over her with her eyelids a bit swollen. In the end, she managed to catch Y/n's bloodshot ones. The girl still smiled, there was so much in that smile, not behind it, it was all in the smile as it was a smile that showed how at peace she was with her life crumbling, how she would smile through it and not do anything about it.

"What do you mean are you okay?" Yet she wouldn't admit that she was in agonising pain and that only Jennie fixed her for a few hours before she was left sobbing in the shower. Her tears were like tears in the rain to everyone because she wouldn't cry in front of them anymore. She was too scared to show that she was weak, she couldn't do it anymore, especially not after seeing what someone could do with her weakness. What Jennie did with it. 

"It was maybe weirdly formulated–" Lisa started and Y/n agreed as she nodded, taking the joint that got handed to her. This time she took a bigger drag, letting the gasoline taste fill her lungs to the brim before letting out a cloud into the air that was dim from the smoke that wasn't making it out. "What I mean is...You and Ash seem off, were at least, the whole deal with staying at another hotel room." If it was anyone else Y/n would have snapped, this wasn't Lisa's relationship, but Lisa was her best friend and she listened to her. She let her point these things out because she knew that Lisa cared as her best friend.

Yet this type of care wasn't enough anymore because she couldn't feel the content of someone caring about her. It was void.

"That's that, but you're just down and don't lie because I know that you have been lying for a while now."

"Everyone is down now and then...Me and Ash have worked it all out now." She shrugged out and took another hit from the joint before reaching over to the ashtray to ash it. She sat back and Lisa heaved a sigh in the smoke-filled living room. Her best friend moved along the couch, crawling over to the girl before sitting face-to-face with Y/n. "You've been down for longer than usual, I'm just worried and want you to know that we can talk. We're always here for each other, babe." Lisa pressed and Y/n groaned, throwing her head back against the backrest.

She stared at the ceiling, blinking away the tears in her red eyes, swallowing the sticky lump, and reached the joint to her lips, taking another hit before passing it to Lisa who had her elbow resting against the backrest with her head propped up on her palm.

"I know and you too should know that I would talk to you if it was really necessary, but I am handling it. Just a lot going on with school, work, and a relationship." It was all lies, the handling part because she was coping with it all using drugs and meaningless sex with a woman she was cheating with on her boyfriend. She was handling it by ruining herself even more than she already had. That self-destruction had always worked until it no longer did. It was just a step away from it being her last.

"I feel like I am losing my mind here." Y/n pushed herself up at that and took the joint away from Lisa as they had smoked quite a bit by now. "You're greening out." She seriously said, taking the joint for herself as she didn't need a paranoid Lisa under her care once again.

"Since when is your tolerance so high–" She grumbled and reached over for the bottle of iced tea before leaning back and resting her head on Y/n's shoulder. The TV was playing in the background, but they had been so lost in each other that they hadn't been able to catch the noise from it. Y/n knew her tolerance had rocketed after nearly smoking every day now. The same went with everything else as her nose had gone runny and red, if not bleeding at times.

"Would you suck dick for a career?" Y/n giggled at the question while leaning her head against Lisa's with the joint still burning. Her other hand played around with the bic that she used to even it out.

"No? I don't know."

"I would."

"For real?" Lisa hummed at that. "I know how it sounds, but it's one blowjob for whatever career you want and then you live your life...It's like making a wish except–"

"The genie is in a dick you have to rub instead of bottle." The words that came out of Y/n's mouth made the already giggly Lisa fall into a fit of laughter. Y/n rolled her eyes and this time she reached for her phone in an instant when it buzzed, seeing that it was a message that was private and only one person's messages were on her phone.

It was stupid, but it was a long and boring Sunday and Asher had left in the morning to take the flight to San Francisco. She had texted the woman a few hours ago, but without a reply back and she called Lisa knowing the girl had no work today. The vixen had forgotten the message she sent about two hours ago and hadn't said anything else.

3:22 P.M. im all alone

5:30 P.M. Comin over, just landed Be there in ten

Y/n looked at her best friend who had calmed down and was high as a kite. She'd feel bad if she were to throw her out without a reason, but she hadn't seen Jennie in two weeks. The last time they had been together was on Y/n's last day of the Summerfest and Jennie had flown out to Vegas after for something. She tried to get the girl to come with her but the idea was ridiculous for so many reasons. The biggest wasn't even what she would say to everyone, but travelling and spending even more time with Jennie.

She couldn't deny that she enjoyed the life Jennie brought to her.

She couldn't either deny that besides herself still crumbling with each passing day, her relationship with Asher looked much better after not seeing Jennie.

It did come with constant texts from Jennie–Y/n had assumed she wouldn't even think about her since she tended to not think too much about Jennie. Every time she thought she had forgotten her, the brunette came right back to remind her of who she was. Of what place she now held in her life, the control she seemed to have even when she wasn't there.

Jennie was demanding; Y/n was somehow still obeying, being a willing victim of Jennie, of her power and control. 

Despite the pain and regret, Y/n couldn't stop, they had become her best friends.

Lisa was long gone after an excuse of being called in for a replacement shift at work.

The pain and regret went away with Jennie though, the feline replaced them as she had everything she needed. She was able to replace her best friends, pain and regret.

They had barely managed to start a conversation before Y/n was on her knees as Jennie sat on the couch with the girl between her legs. She released a deep sigh, relaxing on the couch at the mouth working her length. It was hard to say how good it felt to have her dick in Y/n's mouth, the way she would suck on her tip, swirl her tongue, and take her into her throat. The teasing of her tongue, the build-up and the release that made her toes curl and her body convulse, each time losing her vision. Her hand playing with her heavy balls, if not taking them into her mouth. Jennie hadn't gotten to experience such care before and she had realised that she had been looking for love in the wrong places.

Whatever love even was, it held different meanings for everyone.

Pleasure was what she loved.

Y/n only glanced up at the woman who was busy making white lines on her phone using a black card. It was hard not to notice the bruises on her knuckles, the scratches and marks on her neck. It made Y/n work twice as hard. She closed her eyes, stroking down Jennie's cock before moving down and engulfing more in her mouth. Her tongue was flat against the underside and she trailed the pulsating vein as she hollowed her cheeks, moving back up with such suction that Jennie groaned, thighs trembling.

"Fuck–" She breathed out, looking down at the girl whose hair was falling in front of her face as she slurp and sucked around the throbbing hard cock. "I've missed you–this, I've missed this." Y/n hummed and pulled away fully to get a proper breath. Jennie stopped herself from looking back at the coke on her phone and watched the girl guide her mushroom tip over her plump, pillow-like lips that were pink and perfectly wrapped around her every time.

"Say that to every girl back home?"

"What?" Jennie breathed out as Y/n only shrugged and opened her mouth, looking up at Jennie through her lashes. It made her lightheaded as she watched her stick her tongue out and slap the swollen and pinkish tip against her tongue. Y/n wrapped her lips around it, pressing her tongue against the slit, caressing it and pulling back out, looking Jennie right in the eye. The woman always went into overdrive, speechless when she got to see Y/n on her knees with her cock in her mouth. Watching the girl slap it against her tongue again.

She dipped her head, taking Jennie back into her mouth, this time her other hand let go of the woman's thigh and reached inside her boxers. Jennie's chest was heaving, each breath becoming deeper and heavier as she did her best and took the rolled-up bill while Y/n played with her hard balls in one hand, her mouth wrapped around the tip. 

She swirled her tip, looking up as she watched Jennie snort up a line. Her thighs clenched, she found the older woman hot in so many ways, but one thing she truly loved was the dominance she portrayed. The way Jennie was rough, but tender between the lines, there was something different about her touch. The way it all felt like kisses deep within her soul even if they bruised and hurt. Jennie cared.

Her hand worked along Jennie's length, this time a hand coming into her hair, fingers pressing into her scalp as Jennie groaned. "Come on, use your throat for me, baby." She encouraged, knowing that Y/n could do more.

The vixen hummed, slowly working her mouth down before coming back up. She could feel Jennie's eyes on her, the tip was throbbing on her tongue. It wasn't an easy task to get Jennie's whole length down her throat, but she still made it look effortless. It elicited a pathetic whimper from Jennie when Y/n loosened her throat muscles, moaning as she in one smooth motion engulfed the six inches deep in her throat. The feline's thighs trembled, her hand gripping for her life in the hair at the way Y/n's throat had her tip in a chokehold without gagging the slightest.

"Oh fuck," she could only breathe out when Y/n released her cock from the tight grip of her throat. It fueled Y/n on, wanting to be good for Jennie. It didn't end there as she repeated the motion without taking a breather, it made her eyes water the slightest. Jennie's hips buckled up as her feet planted hard against the floor, her hand moving through the dark locks, using both hands to do a makeshift ponytail. She gripped it in one hand, the hair removed from Y/n's face.

Now she was able to see the tears running down the girl's face whose eyes had been bloodshot ever since she entered. Spit covered her chin as it ran down further, her cleavage being in view because of the spaghetti strap top she had on with a push-up bra– it enhanced her small breasts. Jennie's whole length throbbed at the mess she was on her knees in front of her. There was something so hot about the girl in general, but especially in this position as Jennie thrust her hips into her relaxed throat because the vixen didn't resist. Y/n provided her with her throat, letting Jennie fuck it as she massaged her balls in her hand, playing with her hard and big balls. 

"I'm gonna cum, I'm so fucking close now–god, you're such a fucking slut the way you suck cock. It's like you were born to do this." Jennie let out through her heavy breaths with her hips stuttering as she watched the younger girl who was getting her throat stuffed, the way Y/n's eyes rolled back, the lewd sounds of her slurping, spit creating a mess on her cock and Y/n's chin. The grip on her hair was tight as she continued to bob her head to match the thrust, taking Jennie into her throat, reaching her base, and tickling Jennie's stomach with her nose before being pulled back.

She felt the heavy balls tighten in her hold, she managed to slip out of Jennie's grip and pulled her mouth away unfortunate for Jennie. She didn't have time to complain when Y/n's hand quickly jerked at her cock, squeezing around her tip and her balls. It was the least Y/n could do to not have to swallow everything and get Jennie mad again. She knew better by now. Her body convulsed, making her bite down on her fist to stop the sounds that tried to push through the back of her throat. The cum spurted out from the slit on her tip, thick ropes of white and thick warm cum flew and Y/n leaned closer, closing her eyes and sticking her tongue out.

The dick that had been pulsating in her hold slowly grew soft and Y/n twisted her hand up one last time, making Jennie wince and slump back. Her eyes were on Y/n who had that white release on her face, taking it on her pink tongue too. The vixen winced but swallowed it down before she reached for the napkins on the table where the bag with weed was lying and the one with coke that Jennie had taken out.

"What happened to your hands?" Y/n finally managed to ask as she wasn't getting her throat abused by the woman who was always rough with her—in some instances, she wasn't, but Y/n didn't mind either as long as she got pleasure from the woman which she did get in many ways. 

She couldn't help but wonder what it was that had happened. It was a curiosity that didn't want to go away no matter how hard she tried not to care, but she did for many reasons. She somehow felt the urge to want to know what went on in the billionaire's life and she didn't like this intruding urge. The girl wiped the still-warm cum off of herself, still cringing at how she swallowed it, but it felt like she had no other choice. 

"Nothing."

Was all she got as a reply, looking up at Jennie who was fixing her pants, adjusting herself before zipping them up. She cleared her throat and looked down at Y/n who was already looking up at her, the woman's body covered by a sheen of sweat and her brown eyes black from her pupils that had grown from the coke, cheeks flushed and her heart pounding. One of the bruised hands reached down and she pulled Y/n up and into her lap.

"They're bruised, something did happen." Jennie hummed at that as Y/n was right since her knuckles were sore and bruised. Her hand ran down to Y/n's ass, gripping it through the sweatpants as she sniffled, her nose stuffy from the powder and she picked up her phone that she had placed on the couch. Y/n looked at the screen that was black with two more lines on it. She gestured with her head towards the rolled-up bill and Y/n picked it up without any complaints, she had trouble saying no when she knew that she should, but didn't want to. 

Her eyes watched the girl who took a line like a pro, still looking as hot and perfect when doing drugs with her. She had started it slow, but now it was a constant when she saw the girl, they would get high because Jennie got high every day and she always made sure to leave stuff for Y/n. It was out of good heart because she knew the girl would need either coke or speed to get through a day now. Y/n was like a car now, only working when she was fueled, and Jennie made sure to fill her with all these things. It left Y/n coming to one person and one person only for fuel. Leaving her dependent on Jennie to be able to function.

"I got attacked by a girl's boyfriend because of a misunderstanding."

Y/n got her reply at last when she finished, the powder smoothly travelling through her nose, leaving a bitter taste after running down her throat and leaving her mouth numb, her face numb. Jennie took the rolled-up bill from the girl who frowned at the words. Her eyes scanned Jennie, looking for whatever answers she would probably never get because she had no clue who she was sitting with. 

It was as if she knew Jennie, but then she did these things that Y/n tried to push away and separate from the Jennie she wanted to know and not the Jennie that she was. She painted those red colours green whenever they came to light, it made it easier to deal with. It made it easier to stay.

"Mhm, for fucking her too good?"

She was used to the model of a girl's attitude, she liked it, she also loved putting the girl in her place which was almost an impossible task. The question did catch her off guard because the girl had never really said anything like that before, if so she had encouraged her to walk out and fuck someone else. Which Jennie did at times, but some problems had started to happen in her sex life. Jennie felt embarrassed and humiliated, it had all brought her to a new low in her life and she had no clue what to do about it. It was too much to look for help because it had already hurt her ego.

"What the fuck are you talking about?" Despite it all, Jennie played it off the way she had always done in her relationships even if she wasn't in one with Y/n. It just kicked in from how close they were and this was someone she wanted to keep around. She placed the things aside and snivelled, wiping her nose as her heart was beating in an unsteady rhythm, her body warm and sweaty, the dangerous emotions spiking tenfold, making her a much easier fuse to ignite because she was filled with fuel.

"The scratch marks on your neck and the one on your cheek. Sure had fun tussling in bed didn't you? Until her boyfriend caught you two." Y/n reached her hand up to Jennie's face as there was one red streak on her cheek as if a cat had scratched at her face. The blood was dry and the wound was healing. She hadn't cared when they first started to fool around and she started going behind her boyfriend's back. Jennie would have some sort of marks all the time–albeit less now or none at all most of the time–but they felt like a big fuck you to Y/n's face now.

Her thumb brushed along the mark on her cheek before she glanced down at the ones on her neck. It felt stupid to leave any marks of her own if they would only get mixed up with the other ones. Did Jennie fuck every girl the same way she did with Y/n? Did she put the same effort into every girl she ran across? Was Y/n just another fuck with no distinctive difference? Was she just another one of her girls? 

It felt degrading. It didn't feel right to be feeling this way, but it didn't feel right to know that Jennie was possibly treating Y/n like one of her other girls.  

"I'm telling you the fucking truth, aren't I?" Jennie snarled and yanked Y/n's hand away from her face, her eyes hard at the accusations thrown at her. It didn't make Y/n falter or apologise for asking more questions even if Jennie insisted on telling her the truth. However, it was the truth to something Y/n hadn't been asking her about. She wanted to know if she was just another girl she fucked in the city.

"But you were in bed with her," Y/n stated as a matter of fact, slowly feeling her pulse go up from the cocaine coursing through her bloodstream. Her mind was brought to a different euphoria although it didn't push away these other things, it enhanced them. It made everything worse.

"So what if I was?"

She gazed into Y/n's eyes, waiting for the girl to give up the fight she was starting and apologising for starting it in the first place.

"I'm just fucking asking."

Y/n had snapped at last because of the answer she got and felt anger shoot right through her as she yanked Jennie's hands away from her body. She proceeded to get out of her lap and stand up. The woman was irking her now, not just the woman, the state she had come in made everything crawl over her the second Jennie entered. 

Y/n knew that they weren't together and that she had a boyfriend, but she didn't like being part of a cycle that probably consisted of a hundred other girls that Jennie wet her dick in. It was even more disgusting and annoying when Jennie saw her almost every week. It made Y/n feel used and dirty, like just a toy for Jennie to release into and feed her ego for the day, knowing she was fucking someone hot.

"Don't fucking raise your voice at me and—" Jennie got cut off when the door to Y/n's bedroom slammed closed and Jennie hadn't even been able to finish her sentence. It spiked her anger ten times more as she shot up from the couch because the disrespect was getting hard to handle. She wanted to get her point across, make Y/n realise and say that Jennie could fuck whoever she wanted to when she was away while Y/n would patiently wait for her like her doll. That she wouldn't try anyone else aside from Jennie unless she wanted to end up hurt.

Y/n's attitude was one that Jennie wanted to handle and be able to tame, but it always made her threads snap and she always exploded. Her fists were already clenching in anger as her tongue had all types of profanities ready to be screamed at her.

She tried to open the door– "fucking open before I break it down, Y/n," she gritted out. Unable to contain the anger going through her veins, overweighting the cocaine that probably made it worse using the side of her clenched fist she hit it. It made the door shake, but it didn't make Y/n open nor did it make her reply.

"I told you to open it!"

"Y/n!"

It made Jennie bang at it harder and once again before doing it again and again until her chest started to heavy in more anger. She felt unvalidated because the girl wasn't opening it. She wasn't reacting, but Jennie was and it only irked her more. Y/n was supposed to be crumbling under her and not sitting silently, silence was threatening to Jennie. She couldn't know what it meant and it only made her lose it more.

"Punch my door one more time you fucking junkie."

And Jennie did because the last thing she was going to do was listen to the girl or do as she said. There was no way that Jennie would take orders like these from someone else, she made sure to do it extra hard by kicking at it instead. The words that pointed out her addiction only added to a fire that was out of control, one that would be hard to get under control as she felt it all coming, it was a mistake to point out her denial.

The door got yanked open and Y/n looked at her door to see a dent from the kick.

"What is your problem!?"

"My problem is your fucking attitude!" Jennie screamed right back and blocked the door from getting closed in her face by blocking it with her forearm. She forced it open and pushed her way inside as she grabbed hold of Y/n's forearm, her grip was twisting the skin from how harsh it was, wincing pain coating Y/n's skin. The pain buried itself deep within her and she was slowly finding solace in Jennie's violence that felt like peace, that felt like kisses and love yet it stung. 

She forced her onto the bed–the girl wasn't going to tower her in this scenario. Jennie would make sure she knew who was the one who called the shots. Show Y/n who was the one who was supposed to be respected. She'd go on and on until she would understand and be nothing but someone who got down on their knees for Jennie because she would realise how big Jennie was compared to who Y/n was. Y/n was no one compared to her in the end.

"No one is telling you to fucking stay and put up with it like some masochistic perv. You can busy yourself by leaving and fucking someone else."

"Don't fucking scream in my face."

Jennie pushed Y/n back down, the force echoing when her palm collided between her collarbones, a squeak coming from Y/n and she wasn't allowed to stand up. Jennie was stronger. Y/n would always be weaker, there were certain fights she would never win, but she would put up a fight for as long as possible even if it only dug her grave deeper. 

Her finger pointed right in Y/n's face as she warned her. She towered the girl who had to lean back to look up at Jennie. Y/n heaved a sigh as she looked at Jennie with a scowl of anger and uncertainty about what to do. One thing she was certain about was that she didn't like Jennie's finger in her face. Another thing she knew was that it rang bells she couldn't pinpoint, but it evoked fear in her and it was nostalgic but she had no clue why. It was a blur, and her mind only dissociated in fear of what could happen. She didn't want to feel more pain of Jennie shouting at her and treating her with bruising kisses. It made it easier to forget after if she dissociated. 

"Get your fucking finger out of my face." Y/n spat out.

"What're you going to do about it?" Jennie challenged her, not moving an inch. "You don't fucking tell me what I'm going to do, do you understand?" She continued, her finger still in Y/n's face who was starting to feel like she was being humiliated because of how Jennie was keeping her in this place. She did like it when someone kept her grounded, but she didn't like it when all her control was taken away. It was suffocating, it only scared her further, and it only pushed her into breaking down and begging to be allowed to breathe. 

There was no meeting halfway between them though. No compromising as they were both stubborn.

"I'm not your fucking dog, so get your finger out of my face or just get the fuck out of my place altogether."

"Don't fucking try me, Y/n– you either understand or I fucking make you understand."

"Then fucking make me! What are you going to do? Fucking beat me up like the boyfriend!?" Y/n raised her voice and shoved the hand away from her face. The gesture ignited the fuel that had been added, the fire reaching the path that was filled with it. Jennie was twitching to do what Y/n asked her for. It was all so close, but she knew what happened when she went there, Jennie's bruises were still healing, and she still wanted to have Y/n. At this point, she couldn't tell if the girl would leave or stay if she took it there. It felt like she was so dependent that she would stay and Jennie was seconds away from testing her luck.

"I might fucking do it if you continue to test my patience with you, whore!" It sparked so much anger in Jennie when the girl wasn't listening. When she pushed Jennie away. When she continued to test unknown waters. She grabbed hold of her jaw and forced her back onto the bed before she even had the chance to try and get up. The struggle worked little when Jennie pinned her down on the bed. She took advantage she would always have of being stronger than Y/n physically, and mentally too. There were battles Y/n would never win and she only needed to learn which ones.

Jennie was willing to show her.

"Fucking do it, Jennie, I fucking dare you to do it. I want you to go through with your empty fucking threats for once." Y/n continued to add fuel to the fire they had both started a long time ago. The one that was out of control and they only seemed to make it bigger. She gripped onto Jennie's forearm, but her grip wasn't budging from her jaw and her weight was on top of her. It maybe would give her a reason to throw Jennie out of her life once and for all if she went through with those empty threats. At least she hoped it would. She was scared that Jennie would go through with it and it would register as love and care in Y/n's brain.

"Shut the fuck up!"

"Just do it or are you too much of a fucking pussy. All you do is talk and act big when you are nothing but a scared fucking cunt. Who do you think you're fooling?" Y/n hissed, the grip was getting harder on her jawline and she stared Jennie in the eye. The anger was swirling in both of their eyes, their hearts beating in a rhythm of what was a messed up march song for a war neither of them had the right to partake in. That  Y/n dared to look her in the eye, that she did so in a challenging way was only making sparks fly and the sky was filled with dark grey clouds of toxic smoke. They were both inhaling it like drugs.

"I told you to be fucking quiet!"

"I told you to go through with your empty threats."

"Who do you think you are? You're just another fucking girl on my dick so know your place."

"Do it, you fucking bitch."

The throwing of words continued as they were screaming in each other's faces. Nothing they said made much sense anymore as the screaming had gotten out of control. They weren't even fighting about what it started with, but it had turned meaningless yet it meant the world to both of them to be right at the moment. To be in control. To win. To not know when to stop because they could only stop when the other gave up. It didn't matter if their throats were sore and their skin bleeding, leaving them dry from the words that continued to cut through their skin and leave scars for them to admire later on.

"Listen to what I am telling you, Y/n, listen to me you low life of a fucking bitch that I spit on!" She bellowed, the patience was gone now. "Fucking whore that spreads her legs every occasion and would fuck anyone with a status because you're worth nothing." Jennie's voice was a harsh rasp, her grip only tightening as her other fist clenched and she had no clue what to do with it. It was itching, it was moving, it was rising and it was falling, fighting an internal battle for the girl while also fighting with her. It was overwhelming Jennie, but she had yet to get her point across. 

"You're nothing but an entitled and coke-addicted junkie–"

It finally happened and Y/n flinched, closing her eyes and looking away as her whole body tensed up. She didn't know what to do or how to react when Jennie–didn't punch her–punched the mattress right beside her head. It was so close to her face that she felt the wind of it, that she could feel it by her ear. It made the fear wash over her and Jennie felt the grip loosen on her forearm. Y/n shaking under her, trembling and barely breathing. She had been scared the second Jennie pinned her down because she knew that she had no chance against the woman when it came to strength and at some point, she would have to give in. 

Whatever that unsteady rhythm was, it turned into one that was heavy and her throat closed up, that lump killing her. She knew that she had been pushing her buttons, but Jennie had been terrible towards her. Jennie was always terrible towards her. She put up with it because the billionaire was amazing towards her just as much as she wasn't. Jennie maybe left Y/n trembling in fear, feeling sick from it as it built up and she could throw up from how weak and scared Jennie truly made her feel. It was as if her limbs gave up, knowing they would never win.

Jennie felt her heart drop as Y/n didn't pull away or fight back but only used her forearm to cover her eyes. The older had a hard time understanding it as everyone always pulled up a fight, they always continued after, but Y/n just collapsed right under her. It scared Jennie. Why couldn't Y/n put up a fight, be more than just prey, and make Jennie look less horrible? Why was Y/n shaking instead of shouting, and trying to fight Jennie back with more than words? The vixen wasn't leaving any marks on her.

Jennie could still catch the way her lips trembled, the girl taking in a shaky breath. "Let go of me," that was a tone she never wanted to hear from the girl. That was a tone she had never heard from anyone. She sounded scared, terrified even, she sounded broken in a way Jennie didn't want her broken, in a way that would make her leave. It was an actual docile plea for mercy. It didn't make Jennie feel in power, it made Jennie widen her eyes and watch how their world crumbled right underneath them. 

"Y/n..." Her tone faltered and she let go of the girl's jaw.

"Please just–" Y/n couldn't finish it as she felt stupid enough already and didn't want her voice to tremble in front of Jennie. It felt like the woman would use it against her. Whatever weakness she would show would make Jennie trample her even more. Scared Jennie would hurt her even more if she started to sob. 

The weight on top of her disappeared and Y/n turned to her side as she curled up into herself to try and understand what had happened. She had hoped they had been empty threats. She didn't want to believe that Jennie could be this bad person when she made her feel so good too. It didn't make sense that someone who made her feel so good, could make her feel so scared, it left her conflicted about figuring out what Jennie was. If she was good or bad, or maybe both. She had no clue what to do if she were to figure it out.

For the first time in ages, Jennie's numb self from the drugs, the death that she was inside out, disappeared. The drugs not being enough to numb her, she wasn't able to numb herself the way she did with everyone else. The way she didn't care about anyone else, but herself ever since she got a taste of her new life. She felt the lump in her throat as she nervously rubbed her palms against her thighs while sitting on the bed beside Y/n. She did her best to put all her anger aside which was always hard, but the other emotions were overwhelming and made it easier. Y/n made it easier, the thought of her walking out made it easy.

"I–Y/n..." Jennie started and reached out for the girl who blanched at her touch. She could hear the sniffling and suppressed sobs as she had her face buried in one of the pillows. Y/n's body shaking from how she tried to keep it in. Her jaw trembled as she opened her mouth to come up with words, but she looked away from Y/n and at the door. 

Would it be better to run away or stay? Jennie had no clue how to deal with these things, with the consequences of her actions. Her sweaty palms continued to rub against her thighs, taking deep breaths while trying to think, trying to calm down and not get more scared than she already felt. 

"I didn't mean to scare you like this. I swear, it's—it's from the coke, it makes me angrier than I am...I would never hurt you, I mean—" Jennie tried to find the words, tried her best to find a good enough excuse for this as she was going out of her way for the girl. Jennie was trying her best to find an excuse that would work, not an apology, but an excuse. She couldn't apologise for things she didn't control, could she?

She moved off the bed and quickly walked to the other side with her knees shaky. She kneeled on the floor and reached for Y/n's hand who tried to pull away, but Jennie couldn't stop her stubbornness. She still wanted Y/n to listen to her and she held onto her hand with her both.

"Please, I didn't mean that. I would never hurt you, you know that because...I didn't hit you or hurt you." In the end, Jennie could have beaten Y/n to a pulp if she wanted to. She was quite sure that what mattered was that she didn't and that was enough. That made her good enough if she could, but didn't. She would never hurt Y/n that way even if she could.

The hold on Y/n was gentle now and the girl still covered her face with her free forearm. The gentle hold only confused Y/n further.

"It was from the coke, I care about you. It's okay since I didn't hurt you, Y/n, please, you're aware of it." She continued to desperately plead with the girl, trying her best to convince Y/n of the words that she lived by.

Y/n tried to pull her hand away, but Jennie held onto it. Something made Y/n's stomach still twist in a both good and bad way when she felt Jennie place her lips against her knuckles before cupping her hand and resting her forehead against it. "I didn't mean to do that." She excused herself as she couldn't figure out what more she should do. She genuinely felt terrible and didn't want to lose the girl even if she didn't have her to begin with.

"It won't happen again."

It went silent, the room being filled with the small sniffles and their hearts continued to pound. Y/n's body was warm and despite these bad things her body was always in euphoria and it took away from the bad, it left no bad in the memories. Her body was still pulled to the source of the only good left in her dull and lifeless life that she didn't want to live unless it was right by the source of life.

"Promise."

"I promise." Y/n let Jennie cradle her right after and soothed her pain by being in Jennie's arms, she kissed every little red mark that she left on her. She held her, and she did so gently while helping her calm, helping her feel safe in her arms. The woman made sure to show her why there was so much left to stay for despite the mistakes she committed. God, she held Y/n so gently, she kissed it all away so softly that the girl fell asleep in her arms and stayed in them the whole night, not wanting Jennie to leave.

Jennie didn't keep her promise though, but Y/n had grown used to it and she could tolerate it as long as Jennie hadn't laid a hand on her. It did start in the hotel room when she for the first time showed this side when fighting, but it only escalated. It was fine though. It was fine to scream, punch surfaces and call her names as long as Jennie didn't land any of those forceful punches against her. She got used to them flying right by her face and Jennie then excused it while Y/n would cry and break down on the floor unsure of where she was supposed to go.

The two were each other's prisoners in the end.

[Present]

Jennie's eyes were stuck on the girl in her arms as Y/n was hugging around her waist, resting with her head on her chest. The sex had played a minor part now as the woman wanted nothing more than to hold Y/n and be close to someone. It was the ecstasy working, but it brought out the things she wanted to do too and she knew about but avoided. Jennie had always longed for someone to hold, but it never worked. Y/n was too good for her and Jennie would be there for her even if it meant like this, in a way that wasn't supposed to be. 

She didn't want it to end though and she knew that she had made many mistakes. Y/n still kept her around. It only meant that Y/n took her for who she was and no one else did. No one else let Jennie hold them and she had always been empty and alone until Y/n showed up.

"Do you have any aspirations left?" Y/n mumbled, melting into Jennie's touch who ran her fingers under the tee she had on, caressing her back gently. She traced her ridges, the skin that was hot as they lay above the sheets. Her touch was soft and gentle, but it could be cold and agonising. Y/n dwelled in both.

Jennie craned her neck to look down at Y/n and the question left her thinking deeper than she usually did. It dug up the answer she avoided, the things she never talked about because she was scared, she was embarrassed and didn't know how to talk about. There had never been anyone to listen and even if there was she was scared they would make fun of her for being vulnerable.

The drugs or not, she always numbed it, but then being with Y/n and being on molly took away the numbness and brought everything to life. She exhaled through her nose and hugged the girl closer to her.

"Business-wise, there will always be new things to achieve, I think it's outside of it that I have aspirations, goals and things I want to reach, things I want to become aside from who everyone knows."

"Like?"

Jennie pouted to herself, still finding it hard to bring up as it always brought a lump to her throat and made her eyes hot when they never should be. She wasn't supposed to be this way. Her walls weren't supposed to come down, but they somehow cracked around Y/n. The girl was so gentle with it, she didn't force them open, and she made them crack with such care that it didn't hurt Jennie. It was the opposite of how she tore Y/n's walls, forced them down and trampled all over them all while hurting her to get out everything from Y/n.

"I think...I want to change, be better, and stop committing the same mistakes because they always cost me someone I care about." It was the short answer of it all, but she couldn't bring herself to give Y/n the longer one. She had yet to come through through those cracks in her walls. "Do you have any?" Jennie asked, fingers running along Y/n's warm spine.

The question back hit Y/n right in the guts, her stomach tied in knots and turned inside out before getting dragged through broken glass. She had no clue. She had lost track of her life a few months ago and nothing mattered anymore. Nothing seemed important. Her will to chase after something, anything had died. She had the drugs to suffice, but how long could they keep her satisfied until her life would make even less sense?

"I don't have any–I don't know what I want,"

She wanted to break out of the loop. The loop that she was stuck in, but couldn't break. The one of drugs, parties, and Jennie.

"I feel lost and like there's no going back now, Jennie–" She stopped as it washed over her for the first time. It had been present, but only now did she truly realise where she was with her life. What her life had turned to. Jennie tried to hold onto the girl who pushed herself up and sat, making Jennie follow suit as she sat between her legs. Y/n's life was over, there was no turning back. She had lost to drugs and Jennie. It was over for her, wasn't it? She would be stuck here all her life with no digging herself out of her grave because all it would do was dig deeper. 

"Y/n."

"I keep hurting someone I love, I am this person I never thought I would be, but it's like I was this way all along and it just took time to come out. My life feels lost and I am fucking looking for solutions in places I won't find them because only I can fix it, but can't seem to do...I feel–" She felt more than lost. Y/n felt like she had died already and was just wasting her time on earth. There was no place for someone like her because she wouldn't do anything good with her life anymore. This was it. All she could do was rely on and hope that the people she had wouldn't abandon her. That Jennie wouldn't leave.

Jennie inhaled at the feeling that made her jaw clench as she wrapped her arms around Y/n. She buried her face in the back of her neck and hugged Y/n close. Jennie proceeded to do what she liked to do when her mind spat the truth at her. She painted a deluded picture because her life was supposed to be perfect. It never had been and it felt like it never would be, but she still wanted to change herself even if she maybe wouldn't be able to quit everything like the drugs and parties, at least she could quit the person she was. Jennie wanted to run away from herself and be someone perfect–if that meant having someone.

"It's okay."

"Nothing is, Jen. Life just became meaningless all of a sudden and I no longer want to live my life."

"You're too young to end your life, Y/n."

"I already did when I got involved with you."

Jennie hummed at those words as Y/n played with the woman's fingers who had her arms wrapped around her waist. Jennie knew what she had done to the girl and Y/n knew what she had allowed to happen.

"You're the only one that makes me feel alive," Y/n admitted. Because despite feeling dead from the inside every day. Jennie made her feel things, she made her feel alive and made everything else disappear. It crawled over her, although in the best way possible when Jennie moved her hair to the side and gently kissed the side of her neck. Y/n couldn't lie, she loved the way Jennie made her feel, the highs she brought her to and the way she made her life feel so much better. It was all Jennie, no one did it better.

"You're the only one who has stuck for so long," everyone left, no one stayed forever aside from the people she paid to stay. Jennie knew why they left. She was the sole reason as to why she was alone and why no one wanted to stay. Jennie only had herself to blame but couldn't lower her ego and do it.

"I don't think anyone will stay if they find out." Y/n turned her head and faced Jennie who lifted her head. Their eyes which were filled with euphoria and pain ignited a spark that always connected them and Jennie leaned in. Her nose brushed over Y/n's before their parted lips brushed over each other too. "I'd always stay," Jennie reassured the girl and closed the small gap between them.

Jennie stayed even if she knew all these things about Y/n, the same way Y/n stayed despite knowing what Jennie was.

It wasn't long until dawn came and that was when the night ended for them.

Y/n woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a distorted mind with her world spinning from the come down after taking ecstasy. She knew that she shouldn't take any for over a year as she had been taking the pills once or twice a month if not more at times. It had left her dissociating, losing her memory, and more depressed than she was before she started to abuse them. Suddenly they were the only thing that brought serotonin to her life and Jennie.

3 P.M. was when the girl woke up and found herself in the bathroom and before she could get in the shower her glossed-over eyes landed in the mirror. She couldn't figure out how far rough was supposed to go because it went to different lengths with Jennie. Her hips and waist had small bruises from her fingertips, her wrists looked like they had been strangled, and she was too drained to feel anger, but more so despair at the hickeys left on her neck. The only thing that hurt was Jennie still lingering between her thighs and wrists. At times it felt like Jennie was just taking out all her feelings on her, but she ignored it because it was better than Jennie possibly taking it all out in a different way.

Her phone went off a few times again as it had been buzzing since she woke up. She decided on the most important person at the moment which was Lisa since she and two other friends were coming over. It was a text saying she was on the way and would be there in 30 minutes. That 30 minutes were spent getting ready and covering every bruise before Lisa showed up.

"You don't look too good," Lisa commented and walked into the bedroom where Y/n was slumped on the bed which sheets she had changed. She busied herself with her phone as she had a message from Asher.

9:12 A.M I hope everything is fine, call me if you need to talk or something. I will be home on Monday morning The games are starting soon. Love you so much baby

Y/n sighed as she looked at the texts and looked up at Lisa who threw her bag to the side and crawled on the bed.

3:33 P.M. love you and good luck

She had no clue how else to reply. Every single reply sounded forced when she wrote it and she decided to keep it short to not make it even more obvious. She did talk to him last night and it was enough. It was hard to express herself the same way she used to as the words didn't come as easy anymore. Those love you's, I care about you, miss you and more. It no longer felt right and the shame and guilt made it worse.

Y/n huffed when Lisa slumped down on top of her because she didn't get a reply from the girl who looked like she was in the deepest hole in her life.

It was riveting to see her best friend this way.

Y/n looked different, and not from her looks, but something else.

"What?"

"See, you still look like a black cat, but more of a depressed one."

Y/n groaned and looked back at her phone that she held away from Lisa to make sure she wouldn't get a glimpse by accident. It wasn't like her friend was peeking, but she wanted to see what the private messages were. She had fallen asleep around 6 am with Jennie.

1:12 P.M. Had to leave for the new work thing Left you a little boost, figured you might need it if you are going out Text me if you need something or can't get in somewhere Just text me if you are going out or doing anything

Y/n quickly reached for the bedside drawer and Lisa lifted her head, looking up from her phone at the abrupt movement. She watched the vixen under her rummage blindly through the drawer until she pulled out a small bag of white powder.

She knew Jennie had started some new branch in her company, expanding for more than owning a billion-making stockbroker company. Somehow she knew what was going on in the feline's life because she included her whenever they met.

Then came the wanting to know when she was out or with whom. It also came with getting in everywhere because of Jennie.

"Is this like a new thing?"

"What do you mean?" She questioned as she inspected the bag; it was snow.

Jennie always left her these drugs whether she asked or not. She knew the girl would feel like shit for the coming days or however long the come down would last. It would make her feel better even if it only made everything worse in the long run. She didn’t want Y/n to go through terrible withdrawals.

Lisa gazed at Y/n worriedly who put her phone aside, leaving the texts from Jennie on read.

"You're on a coke diet." Lisa deadpanned her suspicion because she could see it on her.

"How would you know?"

"Dated Philip who became a coke addict. You've lost weight that you aren't able to afford to lose when you are already fucking tiny Y/n." Lisa exclaimed the obvious and pushed herself up onto her knees. Y/n sat up and leaned back against the headboard, putting the bag on the bedside table. She knew that she had lost weight she wasn't supposed to lose.

"It's like 5 pounds, I'm 110 now." Lisa rolled her eyes at that as the 5'8 girl was always trying to justify things that weren't right.

"First of all I'm not addicted and second of all, what if I've lost some weight it happens." Y/n went on defending as she wasn't addicted to cocaine or any drugs. She was sure that she would be able to stop the second she wanted to, but she would have to want to do it first.

There were many reasons as to why she didn't want to stop it. It killed the pain, it let her feel better when she wasn't with the only person who seemed to take her as she was. It killed the guilt and shame when she was high and she didn't feel like killing herself until she did and re-dosed to make it go away.

"Then why are you so defensive about it?" Lisa calmly asked to not anger the girl because it seemed like it was stepping on her nerves. The topic was sensitive which let her know enough–not enough as there was more than coke to it all.

She didn't know about Jennie and what Y/n's life truly had become aside from the partying, drugs and alcohol. One thing she did know was that Y/n wasn't someone who could afford a cocaine addiction as it wasn't cheap.

"Because you are forcing something that isn't true onto me."

Y/n looked down at her hands and played with her fingers. It was heavy on her chest and she wanted nothing more than to tell Lisa everything. To confess her sins and get rid of the burden on her, but she couldn't. She felt too ashamed and it was killing her, she was killing herself because it was all her fault.

"Your nose is red, you come high to classes, work, and everywhere else I see you."

"You do it too."

She continued to try and justify it, but she knew that she couldn't go through a class without being high or doing a shift without crashing unless she was high. It was as if it was her lifeline and she couldn't function without it. Y/n continued to tell herself that she wasn't addicted though and that she could stop because she knew that she could, but the withdrawals would be too much at a time like this. She couldn't stop now when she needed to work and finish school.

It wasn't an addiction.

It was just helping her until she was done and then would be able to go through withdrawals without them getting in the way of her life.

"When we go out and not every time–" Lisa said and reached for her friend's hands, taking them in hers. She knew that she was guilty of taking drugs too when going to parties, but it wasn't all the time, unlike Y/n. It felt like every time she saw Y/n she was either high or going through a comedown. "Where do you even have the money to afford doing coke so often?"

"I work just like you."

"I'm just worried."

Y/n pouted, she slipped her hand out of Lisa's grip and reached for the small bag.

"It's pure." She prompted and despite the concerns and not wanting her friend to go through tough times Lisa gave in in an instant as she reached for her cardholder.

TAGSLIST! @yxlis @jisooftme @geeminz @lisas-earlobe @badaspookie @xszn @badasgff @hwm1hyun @herwhcre @lilacura @naycore / taglist is open

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[writeforfandoms]

Born for Greatness 1

Find the series masterlist

Here we are with chapter one! We will find out eventually what each of the guys shifts into. There will be more characters introduced later. This is a semi-slow burn, so don't expect anything romantic for the first few chapters.

Warnings: Some violence, swearing, anti-shifter rhetoric (brief).

Word count: 3k

You tugged your shirt straight again, taking a deep breath. You’d been assured that the pack would meet you at the base, but you were going in on your own. 

Wasn’t the first time you were being sent into the metaphorical lion’s den, and probably wouldn’t be the last. 

The car stopped and the driver turned to look at you. “Here we are, ma’am.”

“Thank you.” You offered the soldier a smile, hiding your nerves, and got out of the car. The driver had already grabbed your duffel for you, and you nodded your thanks to him. 

Once more unto the breach. Your lips twitched at your own sense of humor. 

You’d only gone a few steps when you saw the man approaching you. Muttonchops, hat, shirt that looked just a bit too small the way it clung to his arms and shoulders. Blue eyes that you met for a moment before lifting your gaze to his forehead. He stopped in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, disapproval radiating from him. 

So this was going to be one of those assignments, then.

“Alpha Price.” You tipped your chin to expose your throat, a silent sign that you were offering no threat. 

He rumbled your name, low and a little rough. He had a nice voice. Then there was silence for a moment as he looked you over, a clear assessment. He huffed once through his nose but offered nothing else. “I’ll show you where to drop your things,” he said instead, turning, clearly expecting you to follow him.

Which you did. You were not here to make problems, you were here to solve problems.

Price didn’t speak, but that was fine. You took the time to look around the base. It would take some time to memorize routes, you knew, but observing never hurt. Briefly, you were glad this wasn’t your first military assignment, or even your first PMC assignment. 

Silently, he opened a door for you. “This one’s yours,” he said, glancing back at you. “We’re having a team meeting in fifteen minutes in the rec room. Straight down this hallway, then left.”

“Got it. Thank you.” You smiled at him, close-lipped, and stepped past him into your temporary room. It was small, as expected, and plain. Bed, dresser, desk, chair, bedside table. You’d probably be sharing bathing facilities with any other women on base. 

You needed a map. 

But you set your duffel bag down, breathing out slowly. This was home for the next couple months, at least. 

Since you had a few minutes, you fixed your hair, made sure your clothes were still presentable, and dug into your duffel bag to pull out your notebook and your favorite pen. 

Closing the door to your room softly, you wrote down the room number before you headed for the rec room. You were early still, but you’d rather be early than late. Besides, this gave you a chance to look at what you were working with. 

The rec room was labeled, and you stepped inside. Price was there, along with a big guy all in black, skull mask in place over his head. Ghost, according to the file you’d been sent. You dipped your head to him, again making eye contact for one heartbeat before lifting your gaze. He didn’t move, didn’t return the nod.

Not that you really expected anything else, from the little that had been in his file. 

Price watched you but didn’t stop you as you walked a slow circle around the room, chewing idly on the end of your pen. It was a bad habit, but you didn’t much care. Look, you were allowed to have one or two bad habits of your own. 

The rec room was pretty standard, with only hints that this was maybe a more pack-oriented space - the extra large couch, one blanket thrown haphazardly over the back, the battered book still sitting on the table. But otherwise there wasn’t much personality to the space. 

You jotted down a few notes, mind already turning over how to make this easier for them. Especially since this pack was deployed around the world, they deserved a good space to come back to and call theirs. 

The last two walked in together - Soap and Gaz. You nodded to each of them, going through the same process as you had with Ghost. These two, however, returned the greeting, Soap even grinning at you. Hard to tell if he was actually more relaxed or just acting that way. 

“Right,” Price said once the two youngest had settled on the couch, and you sat in a chair at the table. Present, but separate. “You all know who this is.” 

“Our new liaison,” Gaz said, eyes sharp as he looked at you.

But you just smiled. “That’s me,” you agreed. 

“Remember we need to return her in good condition.” Price glanced at Ghost. Well. Good to know which one was likely to “accidentally” push you into traffic. 

“So what sorta training do you think we need?” The question came from Gaz, challenge clear in his eyes. So he was going to be the one to throw away a potential working relationship for his pack. Good to know.

“You? I doubt you need any.” You shrugged. “You’re here, which means you’ve got excellent control of your instincts already. I’ll probably spend more time with the regular soldiers, teaching them etiquette.” 

Gaz blinked, caught off guard by the answer. 

Soap was the one to pipe up next. “Not usually what a liaison does.”

You chuckled. “My job, as I see it, is to make your lives easier and help smooth relations. I’m not a behavioral therapist.” 

“Then why did brass send you?” Ghost this time. His voice was low and rough, with a little more aggression than you’d expected. 

“To prevent further incidents,” you answered calmly. “Which means teaching etiquette, since the military does a shit job of that.” 

There was a soft snort, though you weren’t sure from which one of them. You gave them all a moment before looking back at Price. 

“Are there any additional rules I need to be aware of?” 

“Beyond basic courtesy?” Price grunted and shook his head. “I’ll inform you if that changes.”

“Appreciated.” You set your notebook down on the table to take down a few more notes. You knew they were watching you, keeping track. Probably committing you to memory so they’d be able to keep tabs on you. That was to be expected. 

What was not expected was one of them leaning over your shoulder to read your notes. 

“The hell is a LoveSac?” Soap asked from above you. 

“Furniture company, they specialize in customizable couches,” you answered, not looking up at him. “Easy to move around and make different shapes. Lots of packs use ‘em for pack napping spaces. Is there a measuring tape I can use?” 

Soap moved and a few moments later a measuring tape was set down next to you.

“Thanks.” You picked up the measuring tape and finally looked up at Soap, carefully avoiding eye contact. “Do you mind helping me for a minute?”

“Sure thing.” He stepped back, out of your way, and obediently held the end of the measuring tape while you moved around.

“Didn’t realize interior decorating was one of your talents,” Price drawled, clearly intending the comment to not be complimentary.

“My talents are many and varied,” you said, amused. “Thanks, Soap.”

He nodded, eyes bright as you jotted down the measurements you’d taken. 

“Right.” You closed your notebook, glancing at each of them. “I’m sure you’ll find me if you have more questions.” One last nod to the Alpha and you let yourself out, making your way back to your room. 

You spent the rest of the day exploring, making yourself a crude little map in your notebook of the base. It wasn’t elegant, but it would work until you learned your way around. 

Dinner was quiet, sitting alone at a table, watching the soldiers around you. Though several shot curious glances your way, none tried to approach you. 

Sometimes this job could be very isolating. 

After dinner you gathered the necessary requisition forms, knowing from experience that it would take time to get things going. The sooner you started on this, the better. 

The next day you introduced yourself to the soldiers on base, taking the time to learn some names and pecking order. The group was big enough that you’d have to do etiquette training in batches. That was fine, would just require a bit of timing and planning. 

You also got your first chance to watch the pack interacting with the soldiers during training. You stood off to one side, a quiet observer. 

The first problem you noticed was eye contact. Most of the soldiers held eye contact when being addressed, which was a problem. The pack did indeed have excellent control, but you could see the tension in Gaz’s shoulders, the way Soap’s smiles didn’t reach his eyes. That was a common problem, and relatively easy to fix, just took a bit of time. 

The second problem was more subtle and more difficult. Some of the soldiers treated the pack differently. But not out of respect. 

You really hated it when you had to deal with anti-shifter bullshit. 

But you were careful to note down names, ranks, and everything you observed. Some of it could be written off as mistakes - not answering the first time or not saluting as sharply as they technically should. Other issues were less easy to ignore. Aggressive body language, challenging stares, borderline disrespect.

Honestly, you were amazed none of the pack had taken those soldiers out yet. Especially one. Keyes. He seemed to be the unofficial ringleader of the anti-shifter sentiments. 

Well. You had your work cut out for you. 

“Lesson planning already?” 

You jumped at the voice right behind you, turning quickly. How the hell Price had snuck up on you, you weren’t sure, but it left your heart pounding. “Fucking hell,” you gasped, before you laughed. “Shit you scared me.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. Didn’t look it either, not that you really expected him to.

You waved off his apology. “Appreciated, but not necessary. I’m good. And yes, I am working on lesson plans.” You didn’t offer him the notebook, though. 

“Brass tells me you come highly recommended.” He stepped up level with you, looking out over the soldiers, who had moved to hand-to-hand training with Gaz and Soap supervising. 

“That’s what they tell me too,” you joked, facing forward again.

“You’ve worked with a PMC before.”

“Mmhm.” You frowned a little as you watched two men grappling. 

“How’d that work out for you?” 

“Well, I’m still alive,” you joked. “They had a lot of the same issues I see here - etiquette issues. A few stray people with chips on their shoulders. Nothing unmanageable.” 

“You’re very confident.”

You glanced at him, curious. “Alpha,” you murmured. “I’ve been doing this a long time. I’m confident because I know I can handle it.” 

He grunted once, shifting close enough to you that you could feel the warmth emanating from him. Shifters ran warmer than humans as a rule, which was sometimes very nice. The proximity didn’t bother you - you were used to shifters being more touchy-feely than normal. 

So you just hummed softly, making note of another potential problem soldier, although she seemed on the fence still. Hopefully you’d be able to get to her and coax her back down on the reasonable side of the fence. 

“Not going to join them?” 

You looked up sharply at the question, eyes narrowing a little. “No.” 

“Scared?” The smirk on his lips was taunting. 

“Not trained.” You shook your head, looking back to your notebook. 

“And you work with soldiers.” 

“Not my job to tussle with you lot.” You watched Gaz correct one of the sparring pairs, joking with them. 

“I’ll have Soap show you some basics.” 

“No thank you.” 

The air between the two of you stilled, crackling with tension. The Alpha looked down at you, brows pulling together in a frown. 

You kept your gaze on his forehead as you reminded him, “I’m not part of your pack. I’m a temporary addition. So I don’t have to follow your orders.” 

His eyes narrowed. You were right, you knew you were right. And you suspected this had been a way for him to test you, to see how you’d respond to being ordered around. Your job often required a delicate balance - interfering with the pack long enough to smooth things over, butting into their lives in ways that could be quite personal, yet staying outside of the hierarchy. Which often also meant standing your ground on certain issues. 

Giving in too often to Alphas let them think they could order you around all the time, and that wasn’t why you were here. 

Then he nodded once, accepting your will, and you relaxed a little. This wouldn’t be a fight. Not today. 

Once training wrapped up, you headed back to the rec room. While it was empty, you did a quick inventory on the snacks in there. You’d keep an eye on that, see what vanished the fastest. You ate your dinner as fast as you could and went to grab a fresh set of requisition forms before heading back to the rec room. The desk in your room was adequate, but you liked to have a little more room. 

Except Gaz and Soap were already in there, sprawled out together on the couch with a movie on. Both of them looked at you nearly in unison. 

“Will it bother you if I sit at the table and do some paperwork?” you asked, glancing between the two.

“Nah,” Soap answered easily. “Have at it.”

You settled at the table, bending over the form in front of you. You still had more research to do, but this was a good start for this pack. 

Gaz stood and stepped past you into the kitchenette, tossing popcorn into the microwave. You frowned down at the form, pulling out your phone to double check some specs. A small bowl of popcorn landed at your elbow, and you blinked at Gaz. He just nodded once before taking the larger bowl back to the couch. Smiling, you ate the popcorn as you worked, pleasantly surprised. 

Sharing food was important, after all. Sure, this was just a little gesture, but it was a gesture of acceptance. You’d take it gladly. 

Their movie ended but neither of them got up, just navigating to something else. 

“What do you like to watch?” Soap asked, head picking up to look at you.

“Me?” You blinked, caught off guard. “I’ll watch just about anything.”

“C’mere, then.”

You debated. For about a second. Then abandoned the form to look at the couch, trying to find a spot where you’d fit. Soap shoved Gaz further down the couch, ignoring the soft swearing that prompted, and then wiggled himself further down the couch, leaving a cushion open for you by their heads. When you didn’t sit fast enough, Soap looked up at you with big blue eyes, lower lip jutted out in a pout.

Dammit.

You sat, leaning back into the couch, and Soap grinned at his victory. Gaz just rolled his eyes, resettling himself on top of the Scot. 

“Tell us if you get bored,” Soap said, poking your thigh. “Right?”

“Yes, yes.” You chuckled, patting the top of his head.

The first half of the movie was uneventful, and you just relaxed. Soap and Gaz chatted quietly, apparently quite happy cuddling on the couch. 

And then a fucking cheetah walked into the rec room.

It took you a second to remember that was Ghost. From the muffled laughter, the other two had caught the brief spike of your heart. You huffed but didn’t chide them. 

At least until the cat sat right in front of you, staring at you. 

“Uh.” You blinked, focusing on his ears. He really was a gorgeous cheetah, a bit bigger than you’d seen before, but still lean. “Am I in your spot?” 

The big cat snorted. Which was… not helpful. 

“If you want me to move, I need a more concrete answer.”

But the cat just blinked at you. Just once. 

“Or you can sit there and stare at me. Promise I’m not as entertaining as the movie.”

He yawned, showing off big sharp teeth. And you knew it was a calculated move. 

“Yes, what big teeth you have,” you agreed, very solemnly. 

He huffed at you and put one paw on your knee. Again, a deliberate move. With claws.

“Ah, ow, claws–!” You wrinkled your nose, but didn’t try to move him. “I remember you’re well capable of killing me, trust me, I know. But you’re not gonna intimidate me.” 

The big cat chuffed, removing his paw. And then he hopped lightly up onto the couch… on top of Gaz.

“LT!” Soap protested, immediately squirming. “Yer heavy!” 

“Fuck do you eat, man?” Gaz protested as well, even as a big rough tongue started to clean the side of his head. “Lay off!” 

You bit your lips to hide your grin. Well. That was as blatant a claim as they came. Ghost was definitely reminding you that these were his pack, under his protection and care, and you would pay if you hurt them. So you gambled a little, meeting his gaze for three solid seconds. 

“Message received.”

The big cat blinked again and resumed grooming his packmate, who continued complaining. Soap twisted hard enough to dislodge Gaz, sending him toppling to the floor with a thump. 

You escaped before the real tussle started.

[kelppsstuff]

Let’s make a deal ch.2? 🧍‍♀️cause ch.1 got me in one hell (😏) of a chokehold

Let’s make a deal.

Part One | Part Three

Masterlist

Warnings: violence, gore, cannibalism

Taglist: @fandomsbookclub @adamsfavoritesinner @leathesimp @michelleszn @sashaphantomhive @ladyninggs @sirenetheblogger

Human Alastor x demon F!Reader

—

Life went on normally for Alastor, however every time he went around Belle he felt a tug around his neck. As if a reminder on who owns him.

He hated the feeling. Even if he didn’t see you again, he still felt the leash on him. The only time he felt he could get away from his invisible collar was when he brought people the death they deserved, as if you were rewarding him.

And you were. The more souls he bring down to hell, the more souls you gained. Even if he didn’t know it, he was helping you.

You’d often find yourself watching Alastor. It was very rare you didn’t, and today was one of those rare times. You had the pleasure of helping the darling Rosie with her shop.

You rang the cannibal up and that’s when you felt it. A pull on Alastor’s life. You were quick to jump up to the mortal plane. A gift only overlords and royalty could do.

When you walked through the portal and appeared behind two men. You saw Alastor on the ground hand on his side. You saw the blood slipping through his hands and onto the floor.

Your eyes glowed (E/C) and you pushed your hand through the back of one of the men. Once you felt the organ, you ripped out his heart.

The man fell to the ground, while you took a bite of the heart. “Two against one? I excepted better form.” You have a grin, one that could rival the devil.

You let the heart drop to the body. You licked the blood off your fingers while the other man started to shake, crying.

Before he could say a word his head was blown off. The blood splattering all around you and Alastor.

“I didn’t realize you were so desperate to see me again that you would kill yourself to get to hell.” You gazed sharpens to Alastor on the floor.

(F/C) smoke surrounds the two of you, making you reappear in Alastor’s house.

“What-what are you doing here?” You started to unbutton his shirt. He couldn’t even try to resist — no matter how much he wanted too — he was too tired.

“Saving your Arse.”

“Such language.”

You felt your eye twitch. Somehow this man brought out annoyance in you that you didn’t even know existed.

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” It was a question and a demand of an answer. “I may have underestimated my victims.” That was an understatement.

You felt your self sigh. You started to stitch up the small cut on his side. It was small, but could have been deadly. Luckily no vital organs, he would live.

“Get some rest.” You spoke up when you were done fixing him up. Alastor went to inject but found he couldn’t. The hell? Could you really demand anything from him?

In that moment he knew how powerful a soul could be. In that moment he wanted freedom.

—

Alastor went to his kitchen — looking for food — the next morning. Only to be met with the view of you on his recliner. Head titled back with snores coming from your mouth. Luckily they were quiet snores. Still funny though.

The knife on the dining table glinted in the morning sun.

He grabbed the object and made his way behind you. He pushed the sharp knife to your neck.

The snores stopped. Your eyes open quickly. Now you could easily remove yourself from the situation. And you would, if you felt threatened.

“Oh you gonna kill me now? Go ahead try.”

Your voice was stern but yet almost begging. Alastor’s eye shades over with the bloodlust that was so familiar. One swipe, and you be dead. It would be over.

The pressure tightened and he slit your throat.

Red dark crimson blood flooded down your neck. Down onto your white shirt. You could feel yourself chocking.

The the slit started to close with a faint (F/C) glow. You stood from the recliner, popping your neck. “That was anti-climactic don’t ya think? Hey you gave it a good try though.”

You spoke, as if the whole situation was an after thought. It was almost laughable. Alastor had the same shocked look you had oh so long ago.

You ignored his questioning face. “Hey? Do you know how to drive a car?” You hadn’t had the chance to learn unfortunately. You never spent much time out of your home.

“How are you alive?” His voice was in a disbelieving whisper.

“How am I alive?” You whispered in disbelief. You shook your head as you looked at the cut that was now healed through the mirror.

You looked to the angel. “Belle why am I alive?!” You sobbed. She didn’t answer. Instead she left. Left you all alone.

You sunk to the floor, begging to be saved from this hell. Begging to die. Begging for him to come back. Come back to you.

“Y/N?” Alastor’s hand waved in your face. You shook of the memory. Jaw clenching from the feeling forming in your chest.

“Quite bold, even after I saved you. I’m impressed, chills. How about we make another deal?”

The taller man glared down to you. “You really think I’m that stupid?”

You brow raised as if saying yes. “If you can kill me, I’ll give you back your soul.” Once again, Alastor’s interest was back.

“What’s the catch?” He’s learning.

“You’ve gotta get creative with it.”

Alastor smiled. This would work splendidly in his favor. “Deal.” He signed the contract just like before.

Once it had disappeared he hurried to jab the knife in your chest. You looked to the knife sticking in your chest. ‘Really?’ You thought to yourself.

“Unfortunately it’s gonna take a lot more than that to kill me.”

Alastor glared at you with a new passion. With hatred. With desperation. “Even a demon can be killed. So help me Y/N I shall find away to erase you from this universe.”

You took a step closer to him and smiled. “Good luck.” (F/C) circled around you only leaving the knife to drop to the floor in your place.

Alastor felt his side stinging. He opened his shirt and saw it was red. Most likely had dirt or something in it.

He opened his fridge — looking for food — and saw an ointment with a note. “Reapply every hour.”

—

Ik ik super short! I plan to have Part 3 out like soon soon. I have some exciting events happening right now! So that’s mostly the reason I’ve been working slow!

[otdiaftg]

The King's Men - Chapter Three

Day: Friday, January 5th Time: 8:30 PM EST

Neil hesitated, then set the bag on Matt's bed and struggled out of his shirt. It was getting a little easier every day, but it hurt when he raised his arms too high and when he twisted he felt the pull at his stitches. He got his shirt over his head and to his elbows before Andrew got tired of watching him struggle and tugged the shirt loose. Andrew tossed it off to one side and didn't look to see where it landed. He was more interested in the scars and bruises covering Neil's front. Andrew reached for the bandages on Neil's wrists, and Neil let him rip tape and gauze off. The scabs looked worse today than they had when he first landed in South Carolina. Abby was right; he needed to let his wounds air. Neil dragged his stare up from the ugly lines striped across his wrists to Andrew's face. Neil wasn't sure what he was looking for: a hint of Wednesday's violence or last semester's callous, cheerful dismissals. He got neither. Andrew looked a thousand years from all of this, detached and unconcerned. On Neil's right shoulder was a burn scar, courtesy of getting smacked by a hot iron. Andrew put his left hand to it, fingertips lining up perfectly with the raised bumps the iron's holes had left behind. His right thumb found the puckered flesh from a bullet. Neil had slept in his bulletproof vest for almost a month after that close call, too scared to take it off. His mother had to bully him into shedding it long enough to wash up. "Someone shot you," Andrew said. "I told you someone was after me," Neil said. "This," Andrew dug his fingers harder into the iron mark, "is not from a life on the run." "My father gave me that. People came by asking questions about his work. I didn't say anything, but I didn't sit still enough, either. He hit me as soon as the door closed behind them. That's why I gave you 'Abram'," Neil said. "I don't want to give you my father's name because I don't want anyone to call me it ever again. I hated him." Andrew was quiet a long time, then dropped his hand to the slashes across Neil's gut. "Renee said you refused our knives. A murder magnet like you shouldn't walk around unarmed." "I'm not," Neil said. "I thought you were going to watch my back this year?" Andrew glanced up at him again, expression unreadable. He said nothing, so Neil pressed on with, "You're not actually a sociopath, are you?" "I never said I was." "You let them say it about you," Neil said. "You could have corrected them." Andrew waved that off. "What people want to think of me is not my problem." "Does Coach know?" "Of course he does." "Then your medicine...?" Neil asked. "Were those pills really anti-psychotics?" "You ask a lot of questions," Andrew said, and left Neil alone to get dressed.

Art used with permission by Danka-In-Art. Thank you @danka-in-art!

[it-was-too-cold-always]

We're Not in CW Anymore - 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

The reader gets blasted into another universe - one where Sam and Dean Winchester are real people, real hunters, and really fucked up. To her surprise (or horror), Dean has been getting glimpses of her life in his dreams and is completely enamored with her. It's nothing like the cable-friendly CW show that she knows and loves.

Reader x Dean Winchester

Warnings: language, violence

Chapter 4: Target: Expect More. Pay Less.

You woke up to the sound of the most annoying alarm you’ve heard in your life. You groaned. “Please turn it off,” you complained. You heard Dean flail his arm around until he hit the snooze button. “Thank god,” you said, snuggling into your pillow. Why was your pillow so hard? Maybe because it was Dean. You quickly realized what was happening – your head was on Dean’s chest, hand resting on his bicep. His arm was wrapped around your waist tightly. You were CUDDLING with this man. With a jolt, you sat up.

“What the fuck?!” you yelled.

“What the fuck me?! What the fuck YOU!” Dean yelled back. “You were on ME, sweetheart. I think that makes you the more guilty party.”

“Ugh!” was all you could respond. He had a point, as infuriating as it was.

Scrambling off the bed, you tripped over the ridiculously long sweatpants and almost faceplanted into the floor. Dean was making you very flustered, and that was pissing you off. You’re supposed to be keeping your guard up with this guy, not snuggling him. You walked over to his desk, grabbing the pile of your neatly folded clothes. “I need more clothes,” you stated. You weren’t too keen on wearing the same outfit over and over. A clean pair of panties would be nice.

“I’ll give you a card and you can go shopping. Just don’t go too crazy,” Dean said. You rolled your eyes. You were planning on hitting up a Target, not Nordstrom. You headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day, replaying everything in your head. It felt so strong and comforting to be in his arms. The feeling of his rock-hard chest gave you butterflies. You wanted to lie there with him all day and trace your fingertips over his tattoos. No, you thought, you still don’t know this guy. He could be a cold-blooded killer.

You walked back into Dean’s room to find him putting on his boots. You took a moment to admire his tattoo sleeve – you recognized a few references to classic rock band album covers. You wondered if that was the only place he had tattoos.

“Like what you see, sweetheart?” Dean teased. You had no idea how long you’ve been staring.

“Just curious about your tattoos,” you answered honestly. You couldn’t think of a snarky response.

“What, TV Dean wasn’t tatted up?” he asked. You shook your head.

“Just that anti-possession symbol on his chest,” you answered. He chuckled and pulled his t-shirt down enough for you to see the same tattoo in the same place. “Like this?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.” You rolled your eyes. Why did he have to be this charming?

“Alright,” he said, clapping his hands together, “Sammy’s got a case, and you need to go shopping. Let’s get to it.”

Dean dropped you off at Target while he and Sam went on a supply run. You bought all the essentials – some leggings, a few tops, underwear, socks, a duffle, and you had to splurge on a little eyeliner. It’s not for Dean, it’s for me, you told yourself. You checked out and called Sam, letting him know you were done and ready to be picked up. To your relief, he told you they’re already on their way. You sat on a bench outside with your bags, flipping through social media on your phone. You weren’t following anyone, but you could at least watch the reels. You were entranced with the videos of the bottles going down the stairs, so much so that you barely noticed a figure standing in front of you. Looking up, you saw a tall man with a snapback and a crooked smile. “Hey there baby. Waitin’ on someone? Mind if I join you?”

Great. You literally had nowhere to go, so you’d be stuck with this douche-canoe. You could tell him to fuck off, but the people pleaser in you was scared of how he’d react. You’re not scared to sass Dean, you told yourself. Maybe you were more comfortable around him than you thought. Disrupting your thoughts, the guy sat next to you on the bench, leaning back and placing an arm around your shoulders. Screw this so hard.

“Please don’t touch me,” you said, voice shaking. Way to be assertive.

“Baby I think you’d better come home with me. You can show me all those pretty clothes you bought. I wouldn’t mind watching you undress.” You cringed, not seeing a way out of this situation.

Like a knight in shining armor, you watched as the Impala drove up to the front of the store. Bolting up and grabbing your bags, you hurriedly mumbled, “Sorry, there’s my ride.” Except he grabbed your wrist and yanked you back to face him.

“I think you’re just trying to blow me off, which I really don’t appreciate. Where are your manners?” he seethed. This dude was seriously nuts if he thought you were coming home with him. Before you could say anything, you heard a car door slam.

“Hey dipshit, get your hands off of her before I rearrange your fucking face!” Dean was PISSED. He was coming right at him, fists clenched, the look in his eyes absolutely terrifying. Yeah, Dean was a scary motherfucker. But it kind of turned you on how protective he was being.

“Woah hey man, we’re cool. We were just talking, weren’t we?” the man turned toward you as if you’d back him up. You, however, had your eyes fixed on Dean’s.

“Let’s go,” you said quietly. Dean wasted no time in putting his arm around your shoulders and walking you to the car, but not before sending a swift punch to the man’s gut. You didn’t look back but could hear him groaning and yelling profanities. Dean opened the door for you, grabbing your bags to throw them in the trunk. Flipping off the man as a final “fuck you,” Dean sped out of the parking lot.

“You good?” Sam asked. You nodded, knowing your voice would quiver too much if you tried to talk. Dean simply grunted, not wanting to open his mouth and scare you with his anger. The car ride was silent for about an hour. Dean kept checking on you, looking through the rearview mirror. He was worried. You looked out the window, desperately trying to calm yourself down. The entire situation had you shaking. The fear you felt with that man, then Dean’s booming voice, it was a lot to process. You immediately felt safe when you saw Dean pull up in the Impala. You instinctually knew he’d protect you, and that thought bounced around your head for a while. Maybe this whole soulmate thing was real.

Chapter 5

Tags 💛

@5tud10-54r4h  @deans-spinster-witch @nelachu2423 @nancymcl

[astrolotte]

(Voice of someone who knows this is just the result of bad writing/design/etc)

Okay so. In case you hadn't noticed, Anti-Wanda is EXTREMELY underdesigned. In comparison to Cosmo, Anti-Cosmo gets fangs, a monocle, pointed ears, a hat instead of crown, and a whole different outfit. Anti-Wanda gets... different teeth... and until A New Wish gave her a shirt design + silly eyes, that was it. The only other thing was the blue and bat wings that every Anti-Fairy gets. She even still has rounded ears, just like Wanda.

The teeth are the only thing she had that was different from her counterpart.

As for Irep, he's just straight up the most different Anti-Fairy that we've seen. He looks so obnoxiously different from Peri, even his hair is just completely different. HOWEVER, he makes up for this by the fact that his personality is more similar to Peri's than he'd probably like. They're both sarcastic, dramatic, and find violence to be funny, just to name a few traits.

It'd be interesting if being too similar to their Fairy counterpart was a trait passed down from Anti-Wanda to Irep, no? Unrealistic based on the writing, I'll admit, but interesting.

Worth mentioning too that, while Anti-Wanda is severely underdeveloped, she's probably more similar to Wanda in personality than we see, too. Clothing choice ain't exactly a physical feature, it's a matter of preference, and if they prefer the same thing... Then there's some similarities there!

I just think it'd be cool if being more similar to your counterpart than you should be was some obscure magical defect, y'know? Something something worldbuilding. Love to see it.

[cooking-with-hailstones]

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A post shared by Bisan Owda (@wizard_bisan1)

In case you were wondering: are the campus protests even important? Do they matter? Are they making a difference?

Yes, yes. They are making a difference.

Video description: Bisan, a young Palestinian woman, is speaking directly to the camera. She is wearing a black shirt and a keffiyeh.

Video transcript (I did my best but missed a few words)

I’m 25 years old. I’ve lived my whole life in Gaza Strip. I’ve never felt hope like now. Never. I mean it’s magical feelings running in my veins right now. In my head, I’m in Gaza city, in the north of Gaza Strip rebuilding my city after this genocide has ended. Even started to dream that my friends from Yafa, Haifa (unsure), majdal, are returning to their cities after being displaced for 75 years. These young heroes in universities at America and around the world are stronger than the last occupation in history. And for the first time in our lives as Palestinians, we hear a voice louder than their voices and the sound of their bombs and even stronger than their control in all aspects of our lives. 

In the 70s, the occupation, Prime Minister said, after decades of killing Palestinians, stealing the lands, establishing the state of Israel over the lands that “the adults will die, and children will definitely forget.” 

Wait. Is that the greatest (unsure) in history? Because it’s children and youth who are leading the movement for a free Palestine. everything they have on the line to demand justice and end of the genocide, and a new era of the world, not based on oppression, exploitation or colonialism. 

Do you know what the best part is? demonstrations and calls for boycott in the academic institutions are not limited to a certain people from certain religion, culture, color, religion, race, or maybe economic level. We are all different so we can no longer be accused of anti-Semitism, serving some agendas from outside, we are just different people calling for the same thing. People to people and people to justice. 

200 days I’ve spent escaping death every single minute were not in vain. And those 40,000 innocent souls were killed during these days were not also in vain. And this is the first time to feel and tell you this. 

Keep going because you are our only hope and we promise we will hold our ground and tell you the truth always. And please, don’t let their violence scare you. In Arabic, we say (Arabic phrase). In English, that means “they don’t have other options, but trying to terrify and silence you” because you are demolishing decades of brainwashing. You are making the change. The real change. Their violence means that we’ve begun to affect them deeply. Believe me, we are in the bottom of this bottle and we’re very very close to the end of this genocide. Maybe even closer than anytime before. Thank you. Thank you for each one of you, because you made us, me and my people feel that we are free. We are heard. We’re going back to our homes, and land. 

(Through tears) I have spent the whole night thinking about every video I see, you shouting for Palestine, you protesting for Palestine, you are dancing, singing for Palestine I feel it here in my head that I am going back. And I am free, and one day, we will celebrate it in, in Gaza together. Keep going and we will too. Salaam. 

(if anyone can help with my transcript, it would be much appreciated!)