#but this time was way different and I suppose I have to count it as a first bc of how different it felt and how wiped out I am now | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

s-4pphics · 19 hours ago

Text

the call. I (sevika + vi)

SYNOPSIS: reddit: a place for thought-dumping and being horny [college au] WORD COUNT: 9.5K WARNINGS: this was supposed to be dark but its very crack-ish, sevika and vi play rugby(kinda minor plot tbh), oc is a crazy redditor and wears skirts, STALKING, 90% SMUT MDNI(fingering + phone sex + munching + mult orgasms + dirty talk, tensionnnn) brief mentions of grief and loss bc me, recreational drug use, JUST TOXIC, abby makes an appearance later A/N: WROTE THIS WITH MY BABY!!! @trackinglessons art by lottie my love my light my everything this is a product of #OVULATIONWEEK and the #ARCANETAKEOVER

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 3y

no one likes me.

i [f18] don’t have any friends. at all. i don’t have anyone that’s not family that likes me and sometimes im convinced my family regrets keeping me adound. i just moved cities for uni and haven’t been able to have a valuable conversation with anyone and im starting to think i’m the reason why. to be honest i’ve always been the “weird” one or whatever ppl at school called me. but i don’t think im weird at all. I think i’m nice but ppl treat me like a germ lol they just stare and whisper to each other but i know they’re talking about me

does anyone have any advice on being more approachable? or whatever i’m not even sure what to call it tbh.

kewlio313 • 3y

Everybody’s weird in college! You’re young and finding yourself. Join some organizations and put yourself out there! It’ll work out kid

artkiller OP • 3y

i wish there was a chess club lol

Margie • 3y

how do you go about approaching people?

artkiller OP • 3y

i just walk up and start talking about myself

Margie • 3y

Okay… and what’s their reaction?

artkiller OP • 3y

it’s different every time. sometimes they just leave, sometimes they laugh then leave, other times they’re outwardly mean. one guy told me to ‘shut the hell up bitch’ and i immediately wanted to commit a federal crime(not murder)

Margie • 3y

Goddamn lol. Maybe u r weird

miKrophone • 3y

shut up hoe

artkiller OP • 2y

?? :/

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 2y

Advice Needed

how do you know if you’re mentally ill?

hello fellow redditors. lol. i’m finally back… very odd first term i think i got ghosted or whatever it’s called by some dude on the hockey team but yeah i plotted homicide. i’m pretty sure that situation sent me into a spiral. i think im sick.

i’m not sure what’s going on with me but my thoughts have been really dark recently. not necessarily suicidal or harm inflicting(on myself) but… yeah… prettyyyy dark. idk. it’s weird what my brain conjures up sometimes. i guess im curious why my brain thinks the way it does. i’m not a bad person and i know that, but my brain makes me believe that i am. idk what to do at this point. i’ve never been to a professional and tbh i don’t think i should because i don’t wanna be admitted somewhere lol

kewlio313 • 2y

Welcome back kid. It’s often better to seek help even though it can be fucking horrifying, especially in adulthood. Get help and you’ll be fine

artkiller OP • 2y

and if i’m not fine? what do i do then?

kewlio313 • 2y

To be frank, I'm not sure. I’ve been through alot and even I don’t have clear direction on life. I’ve been allowing my intuition to guide me for some time. Just try it and see what happens. Rooting for you

artkiller OP • 2y

thank you

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 2y

Advice Needed

am i a lesbian?

i [f19] think im attracted to females. i can’t stop staring at their tits. i always assumed my middle school peeping was from jealousy or whatever the hell twitter said but now that i’m grown i think i wanna fuck girls. or like. girl adjacents??? idk the terminology or whatever.

PetersJoker • 2y

go eat some pussy and find out

artkiller OP • 2y

no fuckhead

kewlio313 • 2y

… Girl adjacents? Females? Are you actually 40?

artkiller OP • 2y

is this a dig

kewlio313 • 2y

You crack me up. Have you experimented before?

artkiller OP • 2y

i never passed a science class

kewlio313 • 2y

… Alright.

I meant hooking up. Have u kissed a girl before? Slept with one? Or whatever you youngins say these days?

artkiller OP • 2y

no. i’m not a slut lol i hardly go outside

kewlio313 • 2y

Finding out what you like isn’t being a slut. You’re in college for fucks sake. Find you someone to lay with, ya loser.

artkiller OP • 2y

or i should just shoot myself. less complicated then sex

kewlio313 • 2y

Maybe so, but they’re equally as messy.

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Questioning is usually the first sign. Lol

artkiller OP • 2y

fuck me

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Well

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 2y

what does sex feel like? (wlw)

[f19] just watched scissor porn for the first time. what the fuck was that. (i need it)

MisandristInTraining • 2y

the work of demons aka men

artkiller OP • 2y

i drink their blood

MisandristInTraining • 2y

Lmao

OnHorseback • 2y

Feels like dying but emotionally • 2y

artkiller OP • 2y

i wanna die physically

OnHorseback • 2y

I’m sure some dirty fuck can set that up for you

artkiller OP • 2y

lit

kewlio313 • 2y

Welcome to the dark side.

artkiller OP • 2y

flirt a little harder oldhead

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Ready to come out?

artkiller OP • 2y

of where

ButchesForChrist • 2y

Bitch…..

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 2y

home sweet home.

hello found family. been mia bc fuck school but i’m back… and i think im a sadist.

does anyone know where rugby originated from? i like watching large women be physical w each other and i wish they would harm me in similar ways. pls push me to the floor and stomp me out(specifically directed to one pink head) i’ve been thinking dirty things all day i need her so fucking bad. is this why ppl r so obsessed with sex? bc of hot people? i get it now. i need her to bend me over and put her cleat on my neck

lezziesthatembezzle • 2y

good morning to u too bitch

artkiller OP • 2y

big muscly girls pls rail me from da bck

lezziesthatembezzle • 2y

someone muzzle this thot

Accuntress • 2y

A dyke’s pride and joy: large women.

kewlio313 • 2y

This is crazily your most normal post. Missed ya. Do well in school

artkiller OP • 2y

:3 🩷

[deleted] • 2y

The cards are in my favor

artkiller OP • 2y

would you like to sex through private message?

[deleted] • 2y

What the fuck you crackhead

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 2y

Advice Needed

sex addiction while a virgin?

is this possible? i shouldn’t have watched ppl with big clits trib. quite criminal. even more criminal when i’ve imagined the girl i’ve been following around for the past 2 weeks doing it to me

[deleted] • 2y

is this who we are….

artkiller OP • 2y

obviously.

kewlio313 • 2y

This is my last straw.

artkiller OP • 2y

hugs xD

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 6mo

i’m confessing.

idc anymore. i don’t give a FUCK. i am in love. i [f21] am in love. the deepest kind i think. love at first sight truly. it’s the kind of love that’s painful. it kills and leaves behind trails of misery if betrayed or lost. whenever i see her, i cry from happiness. her joy is my joy. her hurt is my hurt. our hearts are forever intertwined no matter the distance. i’m writing this for her. if you ever see this: i love you, darling. there’s not a second that goes by where you’re not at the forefront of my mind. i’ll treasure everything we’ve built thus far, and promise to never take it for granted. i hope to die by your side.

i love you. i love you so much.

even if we’ve never spoken.

kewlio313 • 6mo

Yup… she’s lost it, folks. Very deep sigh.

ButchesForChrist • 5mo

That’s part of being a lesbian. She’ll live. Trust me

—

“Violet! … VIOLET!”

Why’s Sev always so loud in the goddamn library? The receptionist already has tacks on her behavior chart like some kindergartener. “I heard you! Jesus Christ, I’m sitting right fucking next to you—“

“I wouldn’t haveta fucking scream if you woulda answered me when I asked 3 days ago! Are you coming on Saturday?”

How does she tell Sev fuck no bitch I don’t wanna go in a polite manner? It’s the first weekend after Christmas break and quite frankly, she's already sick of being on campus. Vi loves her friend to death but holy fuck does she wish she had an off button.

“Just come the hell on and stop—“

“Dude, I—“

“You know it’s not gonna be fun if you’re not there! Half the bitches are comin’ for you! Plus… I think you could use a fun time after… y’know.” Sevika softens — only a bit, she's still Sevika. Hard ass.

She does know. At this point, who doesn’t? Her last year of university started on a bad foot when her family home caught aflame with her little sister and father still inside, but the icing on the cake was when her long term, blue-haired girlfriend sent her the can we talk? important text. Now she’s single with corpses for relatives(she thinks her sister would’ve found that funny). Her teammates returned to campus with her; eyes mournful and hearts sunk to the bottom of their stomachs, so prepared to shield and coddle when needed. Sev was one of them: through every breakdown and anxiety attack and hungry but nauseating night.

“I’m not tryna bring up old shit. You been through a lot and deserve some fun. That’s all I’m sayin’. Get your last bit of jitters out before the season starts.”

Vi nods. She gets it. Losing her sister was just as much of a loss for Sev as it was for her, but somehow, she was able to ease back into herself. Become… normal again. Socializing takes so much energy outta Violet, now. She’d rather go lift or go sock the shit outta rich person. In some ways, she wishes she had as much willpower as her friend.

She knows why Sev wants her to go. New pussy, new me, her and Abby once told her, but she’s not in the mood to smash right now. She’ll probably start crying if they don’t kiss both her cheeks before her nose like… Ugh. She shivers in disgust… and extreme longing. She misses her ex like crazy.

“I know. I’ll, uh, think about it.”

“M’kay… now what the fuck is epitactic theory.”

“Girl…”

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 12mi

Advice Needed

how crazy is it to ask for a threesome from two ppl that don’t know you?

[f21] i’m currently in my campus library watching my girlfriend study with her teammate from my stiff ass beanbag and i need them both like crack. how do i bring intercourse up without making it awkward or uncomfortable? help asap pls

also i might c her this weeknd she’s going out and i wanna go

CreamTeam • 5mi

Wait … so is she your girlfriend or not?? 😭😭

artkiller OP • 2mi

we have a complicated relationship🩷

ButchesForChrist • 1mi

Aka she’s stalking her. Scroll down a little

artkiller OP • 30s

stay out my business

CreamTeam • 1s

What the fuck

kewlio313 • 2mi

I thought we were better than this, honey.

artkiller OP • 30s

you prob are. im not

kewlio313 • 4s

Deep sigh.

Your phone drops from your jittery hands and into your lap, screen glowing with every disappointed reply from fucking Kewlio who you’ve grown to love. You like to call them a friend. A faceless, emotionally intelligent, oddly attractive friend who you’ve never met.

The love of your life is right there, as always. Exactly 34 steps away, past the shelves littered with history novels and biographies, sat at the table surrounded by Liberal Arts textbooks and her star-littered laptop. Black jacket, black shirt, ripped black jeans, hair dyed black: that’s new. Still streaked with pink and somehow you’re even more hungry for her. She’s looked a mess recently: beaten and bruised, coming to class with black eyes and bandages across her pretty nose. It makes you wanna burn down the entire Arts and Sciences building with everyone inside of it.

She’s annoyed with Sevika, you can tell. They’re talking about something. Maybe her sister, rest in peace. Or piss if she sucked. Whatever. A small part wishes you listened a little closer when she talked about Jinx(weird ass nickname, but okay) so you’d know exactly what to ask. She can take out any aggression or sadness on you anytime. In here, outside. You’d drop ‘em for her wherever.

Kewlio is a dirty liar. You’re not a stalker. You’re a fan, an admirer, a lover. Your girl’s simply unassuming… How the fuck is that your fault?

She won’t be like that for long, though.

Vi lost her cleats a few days ago. Her black and blue ones that are worn the hell down and hanging at the seams, but she loves them. Wears them almost every match despite how unsteady they make her on the field. They’re her lucky charm, besides you, of course.

Her lucky charm found her lucky charms.

And by found, you mean broke into her gym locker with the code you memorized 2 years ago and snagged ‘em. She should really get those locks changed before someone takes something important.

The explanation of how you found her cleats exactly? You’re not sure and you’re not dwelling. She’ll be so relieved that you found them that it won’t even matter. Might even drop to her knees and praise you like a God. Is she religious? One of the minor details you don’t know about her.

But you’ll find out soon enough. No worries at all.

You wonder how Caitlyn is doing.

—

Rabbit holes are either your best friend or worst enemy. Today, they’re straddling the fence. Your brain never shuts off when you're in a crisis. You’re ovulating, overstimulated, and searching for a cure from someone you’ve never said hello to.

The internet can solve your problems though. Especially if they’re sex-deprived millennials. Their long-term lack of human contact makes for some hilarious stories and useful what-not-to-dos.

how to finger a vagina

vagina g spot where is it

where is clit vagina

vagina map

scissoring hacks positions

lesbian sex how to

can lesbians do anal

is mommy kink a trauma response

Reddit searches are always on your side. All answers to the world at the tip of your fingers. You love the media! Squirting is not pee evidently. PornHub comments are not a reliable source. You should ask your girlfriend if she squirts.

Caitlyn would know. Fucking BITCH!

how to make girlfriend come

Mansplainer misogynists geeking about making their wives do housework while they sit on their asses and flirt with young Discordians. ‘I clap and she appears’

…

You should craft a bomb that only targets cis-het men because what the fuck is going on right now.

how to make girlfriend cum

‘[M48] I’ve never made my wife climax and we’ve been together for 15 years and have 2 children’

Your eyes are fucking burning. Is it bad to wish death on a person? Cursed imagery. Your fingers attempt to salvage the last bits of your sanity.

how to make girlfriend orgasm wlw

date ideas lesbian

am i crazy quiz

insanity quiz

You’re normal you’re okay you’re literally fine.

mental illness signs for lesbians

what does dying feel lik

“Ma’am.”

You gasp sharply. Librarian. Fuck oh shit

“Hi. We’re, uh, lockin’ up, so…”

You’re still at the library. How much time has passed? How many rabbit holes have you fallen into? Where’s your girlfriend? Her and Sev are gone…

But you know where to find your g-spot! Hooplah!

“Oh ye— Yeah! Uhh… bye.” You stand so fast you get whiplash. Your backpack beats against your back when you adjust the straps on your shoulders. Headphones on, music blasting, and just like that, the world is off and you’re on. Right into the darkness of the city.

You love a stripper’s playlist in times like this.

You love Reddit in times like this.

You walk and walk with an extra skip in your step. Time to drive Kewlio crazy.

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 1s

guys im happy

the joy that i feel rn is unmatched. i love my life. im so excited for the future. thank you god and or universe for these blessings

And post. Nothing could wipe the smile off your face. Nothing nothing nothing you love it here! You love school. You love your girlfriend and her friends and her sport.

“Oof—“

“AH—“

You back connects with the angles of your hardcovers and fuck you hope your laptop survived that drop. Not enough cushion in your bag to cover that fall fuck your life you hate everyone—

“YOU FU—“

“Holy fuckin’ shit I’m so sorry are you ok—“

And your mouth zips. Oh…

Oh.

Your girl’s in running shorts. Squeezing her thighs good ‘n tight and she glistens with sweat, brows pulled down in concern as she eyes you from above. If the fun was still out, the rays would dress her head like a halo. A heavenly sight. You’d die here… but not before a drop of her sweat falls on your face. You need that at least once. Zooweeema—

“Are you oka— fuck, gimme your hands, up ya go, c’mon—“

Oh she’s talking. And grabbing you.

Your hands are warmed by skin and your spine tickles when you’re pulled to your feet like a feather. The pain in your back and shoulders don’t fucking matter anymore. Life works in mysterious ways, doesn’t it?

“Hi, Vi.”

“I’m— hey, uh… do we know each other?”

We love each other actually!

“No— I uh, sorry! I go to watch your matches and all that. Kinda a fan… Sorry if that’s weird—“

“No no no no, not weird at all. Uh, very flattering actually. ‘Preciate it.”

You’re gonna fucking pass out.

“Are you okay though? Nothing hurts, right?” And your knees wobble when a squeezing hand lands on your shoulder, gauging you for pain. No pain. Just deprived. Needy. Desperate. Touch me some more.

“M good.”

“Cool…” Her hand drops and you nearly screech like a banshee, “And your name? Sorry bout t—“

You interrupt with yours and she smiles. Nice to meet you, she says with gravel and your heart grows another heart inside of another heart. Holy fucking you’re boutta

“I like rugby.”

Kill yourself. You’re boutta kill yourself.

Vi’s eyes widened before nodding in agreement, “Yeah… me too. If it wasn’t obvious enough. It’s a great… stress reliever.”

So is sex, according to Sexcopedia.edu. Do me.

“Really? It looks painful sometimes.”

She sighs with tension, “It is. We gotta lot of aggressive people playing against us so we have to always… do more. I guess, I dunno. But whenever I’m mad it’s great. Very useful.”

“Are you mad often?”

“Are you studying psychology?” She pins with an arched, slit brow, but her eyes remain light and friendly. It’s funny, she doesn’t appear to be this approachable with her grunge-ness.

“Nah. I need to, though. Could do me some good.”

Her laugh is hearty. Genuine. “Shit, me too. Help me out.”

“Do you wanna be my friend?”

She seems stunned and you don’t know why. Doesn’t banter create friendship? Whatever. Fuck it. She can say no. You don’t care. You still got her shoe—

“Gimme your phone—”

Your heart drops to the floor, through the concrete, right into the center of the Earth’s crust waiting to burn and cease to exist. She’s got you figured out. You’ve been exposed and she’s gonna fry you in the middle of the damn street

“—I’ll put my number in.”

… Oh.

You meticulously make sure your notis are deleted and OFF before handing her your device with the keypad on display. Her fingers are pretty and nimble. Flexible with how slender they are. Pretty hands. Pretty, blue veins and you're instantly reminded of her ex. You hate the color blue.

She hands your phone back, “That’s me. Hit me up when you get… wherever you’re going. And lemme know if I need to cover your medical expenses for spinal cord surgery.”

You laugh. Really fucking loudly and she flinches, but smiles after. She’s so fucking cute! Is this flirting?

“Y-Yeah, I will.”

Her head tilts fondly, “Cool.”

“Cool.”

She gives you one last look before plugging her earbud in to continue her jog. You check her contact to make sure it’s real and fuck you have her fucking number! Fuck fuck fuck fuck

You leap like the happiest frog in the pond when she’s out of your line of view and a sharp pain whips through your shoulder blades.

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 3mi

lads i just got proposed to. spring wedding in sweden

number collected. so it begins.

kewlio313 • 48s

Christ help us all.

CreamTeam • 10s

Ring pics.

artkiller OP • 3s

cawk ring pics***

CreamTeam • 1s

Should’ve fuckin known. I hate you genuinely

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 30s

when’s a good time to text the girl you’re obsessed with?

[f21] soooo i’m laying in bed lookignat her contact and idk what to do. i’ve fantasized about this so many times and now its in my lap… im so used to shit going wrong that idk how to react to it going right. it’s kinda late but i really wanna talk to her but idk she might be sleep or whatever.

should i scale her building and check if she’s awake? :(

—

Vi doesn’t know why there’s a pit in her stomach. She sits on her teammate’s fluffy rug with a smoked out Sevika who patiently waits for her green light, but it hasn’t come. She feels an oncoming breakdown and she needs a babysitter just in case.

“Finish this for me?” A roach floats in front of Vi’s face before she pushes it away.

“No.”

“Buzzkill.”

Sev and Vi sit in silence for 12 seconds before the roach is stolen and hit by the latter. Sevika snickers. Vi drops her head on the couch and exhales her worries through clouds. Stressed, anxious riddled, maybe not the best headspace to get high but fuck it.

“Whatcha thinking about?”

She shrugs, “Everything.”

“Talk ta me. What’s happening.”

Vi’s face burns when her mind plagues with you. Your giant bifocals and smudged mascara and acrylic-stained hoodies. You had a backpack on… Could be a student here. You might be a freshman. Vi hates making assumptions about strangers but you seemed a little…

Immature? Your eyes were too shiny to be a senior.

“You’re gonna laugh…”

“I’ll always laugh at your stupid ass,” She snickers. “What happened, though, seriously.”

Wafts of smoke curl around her words, “I almost bulldozed a girl earlier.”

Sevika scrabbles to her knees with a slack jaw, “WHAT THE—“

“Oh my fucking god can you be normal for—“

“BITCH BULLDOZED? WHAT THE FUCK FREAKY ASS BITCH—“

“NOT LIKE THAT!” Vi scoffs, “I went on a run and bumped into her! Fucking WEIRDO!”

Sevika slumps back on her ass, clearly disappointed, “… Oh.”

Vi tends to the roach until her fingertips burn, stubbing out the burnt paper on Sevika’s ashtray. When she looks up, she finds a very intrigued looking fox. Here she fucking goes.

“She hot?”

Vi’s sigh is littered with agitation at her friend while she laughs, “I hadta fucking ask! Tell me! She smell good?”

“I don’t fuckin’ remember! We talked for like… 2 minutes!”

“2 is enough time to check her out. Show’a hands, how fat were her tits? Like this?” Sevika mimes holding watermelons that are too goddamn heavy and Vi cringes.

“You fucking disgust me.”

Sevika relaxes back onto her elbows, legs extended in front of her. Her brow quirks when she catches Vi’s gaze drop to her waist, “Meh. You like that about me.”

“Sometimes. Not when I’m in a crisis.”

“Meeting a girl is a crisis now?”

“Yes! I don’t fucking know, she was…”

Honestly, Vi’s unsure how to describe you.

“Does she at least go here! You’re not giving me shit to work with.”

“I DON’T KNOW—“

“DON’T FUCKING YELL AT ME—“

Vi groans with her palms in her eyes, “She just asked to be friends. She told me she watches us play and that she’s—“

“Back the fuck up,” Sevika raises up again, “Do you not see what’s happening here!”

“…”

“You’re actually fucking stupid, wow,” She scoffs, “You know she set all that up, right?”

“… What in the fuck are you talking abou—“

“She ran into you on purpose! She’s a fan bitch!” Sev reaches for her phone on the coffee table, “What’s her Instagram?”

Vi whines, “I don’t know—“

Before Sevika can cuss her out for the 40th time, she bursts, “I GAVE HER MY NUMBER!”

“… Did you get hers?”

“…”

“BROTHER—“

“Shut up! I’m not… I don’t flirt! I don’t know how, not anymore! She caught me off guard honestly.”

“What's her name?”

Vi sheepishly mumbles your title; it’s slimy the way it curls on her tongue. You were so nice and now she’s setting you up to be pestered by her best friend.

It’s silent for 3 minutes, only the pittering of Sevika’s fingers on her device while she hunts for you. Another 4 pass before she tosses her phone in annoyance.

“You sure you weren’t hallucinating? Nothing’s poppin’ up.”

“You’re so annoy—“

WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK, WHO THAT IN THE BAAAAAAACK

Vi’s phone screen glows gray with an unsaved number across the top… One with their area code… Sevika watches the number scroll like a hawk. The smile that grows on her face is crooked. And knowing.

It’s 11PM. It’s not you. It couldn’t be you.

“That’s your ringtone?” Sevika snorts.

“Shut up.” Why’s she so anxious all of a sudden? Her sweaty palms aren’t enough to stop her from reaching for the device, though.

She answers and puts you on speaker.

“Hello?”

“…Hi. It’s me.”

Sevika’s brow lifts in questioning. Is that her? She mouths and Vi nods. Her eyes roll when her friend whispers, cute voice.

She’ll never say, but Sevika’s presence re-energizes her. Makes her a little more playful, so she teases, “Me who?”

A beat of silence passes before you start mumbling to yourself, “I’m gonna fuckin’ throw up is this the wrong per—“

Sevika’s hand flies over her mouth to smother her laughter while Vi coddles you; laughs that she’s joking and that she was waiting on your call. Her cheeks burn when her teammate throws her an accusatory look.

“Do you mean it?”

“Mean what?”

“That you’ve been waiting on me?”

Before Vi can answer, Sev raises up onto her knees and mimes fucking somebody from the back, face slack with faux and exaggerated pleasure. She ignores the sinful jolt in her tummy and flings a throw pillow right at her face.

“Yeah, ‘course I was…”

And then it’s silent again. Her muscles freeze with every deep breath you take over the phone. Sevika waits expectantly, talk to her, she says with flapping fingers.

“Whatcha up to?”

“… Uhh… nothing?”

Your laugh is featherlight, “Are you asking me?”

“Maybe?”

Sevika’s had enough of the tomfoolery. She wiggles over and hits the mute button with a heavy slam. Leans in close while she whispers,

“Dude, she’s tryna fuck—“

“No, she isn’t—“

“Yes she is, dodo, did you hear how she was talkin’?” Her tone heightens in pitch, mocks seduction, “You were waiting on me, baby?—“

“H-Hello?” Your mumble is drenched with insecurity. Sevika doesn’t give a fuck.

“See?” She nearly screams, “She’s DJin’ right now—“

Violet shoves her back before unmuting, “Sorry, m’here…”

“… Was it a bad time to call?” You’re quieter now. Ashamed sounding. Embarrassed.

“Not at all! Sorry, I was smoking earlier, makes me lose my train of thought.”

“It’s okay…”

“You make it home safe?”

“Mhm. I was about to fall asleep but then I remembered to call, so…”

Vi catches her smile before her friend can bully her for it, “So, you called…”

“Yes,” said excitedly. She can hear your smile. Very puppy-like. Cute. Vi jolts when Sev starts snoring obnoxiously fucking loud. She flicks her forehead.

“Is someone there with you?”

Both their eyes widen. A sharp hand raises to slap Sevika, but she flinches before it lands, “Sorry. Just my stupid ass roommate.”

“Hi, Sevika.”

You’re oddly calm…. But why wouldn’t you be? You had no other intent for this phone call other than keeping your promise. They still share a look though; a brief flash of intrigue and skepticism. How’d you know…

It’s not pondered on for long by Sevika before she sings, “Hey, sweetheart.”

You sound like the wind has knocked outta you. “H-Hi.”

Sev singles for Vi to pass the phone over to her. She obliges with a hard stare, “I was just passing through, but while I’m here, I gotta couple… questions. That good with you?”

“Yes.”

“Good. You single?”

“Mhm. For forever, sadly.”

“Great. Are we at the same school?”

“Duh. I’m at every match. We’re, uh… graduating together if everything goes as planned.”

So definitely not a freshman. Just when Vi thought it was impossible to finish college without a chip on your shoulder. You seem to have made it through just fine.

Despite Sevika’s reputation of being cold-hearted and abrasive with wicked flirtation skills, she speaks to you like you’ve been in her life for years. Gentle. Inquiring. She lays flat on her stomach with her feet kicked up behind her, “What’s your major?”

“Architectural engineering. What’s yours?”

“You’re so smart. ‘M doing mathematics. You should tutor me when you getta chance.”

“Sure. Just lemme know when. I’m always in the library, so.”

“Well, what a fucking coincidence, so are we! You coulda dropped by and said hello if that was the case.”

“I’m trying to do that now… Am I doin’ okay?”

“Just fine actually. Aren’t you sweet.”

“I taste sweeter.”

Sevika drops the phone on the plush rug beneath them. Sits upright with urgency. Gawks at Vi whose jaw is nearly in her lap. There’s hardly any air in her chest. She squabbles for her phone and ensures that the volume is all the way up. Holds the device right in between them.

“… Swear? I don’t think that’s possible.” Sevika hums at you, holding her roommate’s gaze while her tongue traces over the dryness on her lip.

“You could find out… Both of you can if you wanna.”

“‘S that easy?” Sevika rasps, and Vi flinches when her breath hits her mouth. Leans in a bit closer to feel more on her face.

“Why do you sound like that?” Vi huffs at your genuine curiosity. You’re so fucking cute, fuck.

“Because you’re turning me on, hon,” Her gaze washes over Vi and her skin burns with trails. “Both of us.”

“Oh… cool.” You exhale unsteadily. They can’t help but laugh at you. “Cool?” Vi repeats.

“Yeah. Awesome. I’ve never done that to someone before.”

“You a virgin?”

“Yup.”

“FaceTime us.”

“I have a Samsung.”

Both girls explode into laughter, “We’ll call you, then, Jesus—“ Vi sends an eager finger towards the small camera before you mumble,

“Who says I’ll answer?”

Sevika tuts, “You don’t wanna watch us kiss?”

“I’d rather watch in person.”

Sevika throws Vi a look and she’s instantly reminded of Abby. Usually, that glance — filled with an equal amount of tenderness of filth — is shared between her teammates and she’s forced to endure whatever nonsense they plan to take out on somebody together, but now she’s here. Sevika’s including her in such a sacred ritual. She’s suddenly skittish, “You’re killing me, baby. Whatcha doing this weekend?” Sev quiets, timbre amorous.

“Playing Overwatch.”

“Fuck that shit. Come to Kappa on Saturday. Everybody’s goin’.” Sevika snips down at Violet, and she whines while her fingers dig into her roomie’s tank top. A little closer, and they’re kissing. Just an inch—

“What’s Kappa?”

Vi giggles, “House,” Sevika mumbles against Vi’s mouth, “Frat house. Right off 16th. It's bright blue, can’t miss it.”

“‘K, I’ll go. See ya there.”

“Wh—“

Three dial tones break through the smoke in the air before the screen goes dark, both girls left stunned and… very tempted to track your location. Maybe pop a titty for your RA in exchange for your room number. Wouldn’t be the first time…

… Is that too much?

It could be, but you didn’t hesitate to drop bomb after proposition, and the selfish part of her heart can’t help but think you wouldn’t mind two ravenous strangers at your front door. The knowledge that they’d give you everything you needed would be enough for you to allow them entry.

And the way Sevika’s staring at her… Craving, but careful. She’s so patient.

It’s been such a long time — two years since they’ve had any physical connection. Drunken nights, quickies in the locker room showers— the distractions from grief were all put on the back shelf when Vi got into her relationship. Sevika’s a sleaze, not a homewrecker — most times, so she kept her hands to herself out of respect, no matter how many times Violet would catch her staring where she knew was off limits.

Vi can't get to you, but she can get to Sevika.

So she yanks her close, dissolves the space between them as their mouths collide with heat and a newfound ache for you in the middle. Sevika’s just as rough as she remembers — pushes her down so her back molds to the floor, entangles a cinched hand in her hair to pull and expose her neck to the attacks. She’s got blotches and teeth marks on her throat — the unrestrained and possessive and her stomach flips. She gasps at the ceiling when her nightshirt shreds under a forceful hand.

She hasn’t had the heart to have sex in months — propositions were turned down on dozens of occasions because her mind couldn’t focus on enjoying. Every second of euphoria gets overshadowed by hollow, unforgiving guilt.

You sparked something in her with your forwardness, that curiosity that left her aching to read your mind. Her best friend, too, evidently.

Every movement is fast. She crawls down her torso with intent — fangs sharp where they leave blood down her sternum. Vi’s fingers pry Sevika’s shirt off, her tongue separating from her waist for mere seconds before reattaching. An eager hand fondly moves her friend’s hair out of her face.

You want it? Sevika’s eyes read.

Yes, I want it, please. Vi says aloud. Eager with a twisting hand in her scalp.

Sevika sends waves through Vi with every wrestle her tongue devotes to her clit. She can’t think of anything but Sevika and you and both of you at the same time; on top of her — you sat on her face while Sevika’s fingers drove inside her. She wants her tongue inside you; unrelenting and feverish until you scream and soak her tongue in your sweetness.

Sevika eats like she’s hungry. She eats like she misses having her like this and that wounds Vi up tight; it sends shockwaves down her legs. Makes her twitch, but Sevika forces her still with a tight grip on her waist.

Vi curses with fluttery eyes when a finger — then two, circles around the entrance that aches for a stretching.

They’re heaven sent when they push in. She’s getting fucked like she’s hated and she loves it. She deserves to feel like nothing; her walls are selfish where they encase the digits that bring her to the sun, massage against every sensitive ridge just how she needs. Her mouth spills with whatever energy she has left within her; slurred and drooled fuck yes yeses. She can barely conjure a warning when her core locks tight, right before she explodes.

There’s wetness everywhere while she pulses through her pleasure, thighs squeezing around Sevika’s head with every satisfied moan that vibrates on her clit. Tells Violet to give her more and to take it take it take whatever she gives her like she knows she can.

It’s not until Violet starts sobbing and Sevika’s mouth is dripping wet that she pulls out and separates from her completely. She kisses her pussy gently before shifting to help unlock Violet’s knees. She shivers with every peck that’s trailed up her torso to her chest to her neck.

Sevika laughs when Vi does, choked and clogged, but elated and genuine. It’s been so long since her body’s felt this light.

“You needed that. Ya look better already,” Sevika cackles. “Can you stand?”

“Fuck off, gimme a sec.” Vi shoves playfully at her chest.

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 3s

guys.

i love being a liar. it makes me feel alive never let a bitch tell you lying is wrong it literally makes life so much easier!! wishing everyone a good night.

everything’s going as planned. just one more tally on the board and we’re set

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 20mi

Advice Needed

it’s been 24 hours and my girl who’s not my girl has been texting me nonstop.

[f21] hello. im in a crisis but a good one? if that’s possible. long story short im in love but not dating the girl im in love with yet. i took some of y’all’s flirting advice and i think it worked. im betting my life that yall do witchcraft. i barely said anything to her and now she won’t me😝😝😝 and tbh… i think her friend won’t me too!!!!! she’s always asking about my day and asking if i ate and if id wanna eat with her but i always decline bc im not ready physically mentally like i’m gonna combust the second she walks up to me i barely survived our first interaction…… but her friend invited me to a party tomorrow night…….. wtf do i wear to that i’ve never been outside before LOL

might get a train ran on me…… WE’LL SEE FRIENDS

adding her undies to the shrine🩷 yaaaay

CreamTeam • 14mi

bro is she your girlfriend or not? It’s been years at this point.

artkiller OP • 12mi

yes i mean no or yes :)

kewlio313 • 7mi

Wear something that you wouldn’t wear to your parents funeral. Good luck dear

artkiller OP • 5mi

i would whore out if my family died

kewlio313 • 2mi

Good God.

—

What does genuine happiness feel like?

You’re unsure how long you’ve been on your beanbag, but Violet and Sevika have been laughing since you sat down. They’re so relaxed around each other, content with silence. Accepting of failure.

You’re not a jealous person at all. Far from, actually, but something furies from within whenever you see them — or people, in general, gleeful; the desperation to feel. You haven’t had the privilege. Maybe that’s why you cling to whatever you have with Vi. She has birthed a wanting inside you. A desire for connection after spending decades comforted by the sound of your own voice. Or comments under your posts.

Violet makes you happy. And Sevika might, too. Just as long as she doesn’t get too close to your light.

You’re standing right behind Sevika. She can’t see you, but Vi can. Her fear is swiftly overshadowed by delight. She greets you with a smile that makes your heart throb.

Sevika’s gaze wanders down to your legs, that remain exposed despite the weather,

“You’re not cold?” She asks. Not exactly the introduction you were expecting, but that makes you giddy. Vi must tell her about you!

“Yes,” You say with ease, “Y'all should come to my room. It’s warmer there.”

Vi nods after gawking, 2 books immediately tucked to her chest with her bag on her back. Sevika just laughs. She gets it. You like that.

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 1s

Advice Needed

how do i mentally prepare for sex? (virginity)

literally fucking freezing walking to my room rn with two burly butches that i want to throw me around and i think they’re going to bc they’re not talking to me but the y are very close i don’t want them to see my screen guys im about to have a threesome pls fucking help me

—

“Cute room.” Violet says, inspecting your horror movie posters and stuffed animals.

“Thank you.” You smile.

I hid the 14 polaroids of you that I had taped to my door. Hope that makes you more comfortable!

“It’s just you in here?” Sevika chimes, eyes glued to the small bed up against the wall, right next to your PC setup. You should ask if they game afterwards.

“Yes.”

Violet takes her jacket off and hangs it on your doorknob.

“Already takin’ off your clothes?” You plop down onto your freshly made mattress. Both girls look very stiff in your space; Is that normal? Maybe they’re nervous.

Both girls laugh the same. “Not like that. It is warm in here.” Sevika follows in Vi’s lead, removing her hoodie and her undershirt is squeezing her and yup those arms are still there those muscles are popping out yup yup yup—

“Yeah. I can’t sleep in the cold.” You pat your bedspread for them to sit… and they do. On either side of you. Vi brought her notebook and pencil. Sevika brought her heavily ringed hands.

She scoffs, “Me neither. Immune system is worse than a newborn’s.”

“Do you get sick easily?”

“Yes. I just got over it last week.”

“Damn…”

“Almost got me sick,” Violet pins playfully, skimming through her pages. She erases before rewriting. So so so so smart; too bad both her answers were wrong. You’ll show her the way soon enough.

“Coach would hate me. Her star pupil’s under the weather, what ever shall we do,” Sevika mocks and you both chuckle.

“The season starts next week. Y’all nervous?”

“No—“ “Yes—“

“I’m nervous for games, not practice,” Vi corrects, “I can’t find my fuckin’ shoes.”

“What shoes?”

“My cleats. My sister got ‘em for me a while ago, wear ‘em every match for good luck. I don’t remember where I fucking put them though.”

“Aww, ‘m sorry.”

Sorry for keeping them in my closet.

“S whatever. Just gotta get new ones.”

Small talk is boring as fuck, but it continues between you and Vi. Sevika’s quiet as a mouse; every glance in her direction is met with hooded eyes. She’s very focused on your nightstand drawer. Can she see what’s inside it? You hope so; Maybe your unworn thongs will motivate them to move this along.

“Awww! Wait, you used to play soccer?”

You already know all this. It’s on her fucking Instagram for fucks sake!

“On the junior team when I was like… 10! I was—“

Trash. I kept tripping over the fuckin’ ball—

“—And forgetting to tie my shoes. It was a hot fucking mess!”

Yup. Same as the caption.

The laughter between you finally quiets. You count 12 seconds in your head. You raise a hand to place it on the Hello Kitty bandage directly under her eye.

“What happened here?”

Sevika’s breathing is very calming.

“Got in a fight,” Vi mumbles. Poor things embarrassed! “Got socked in the eye.”

“Sorry,” Your hand rests in your lap, “Did I hurt you?”

“You’re good… still stings though. They gotta good one in.”

“How’d it happen?”

“Don’t remember honestly.”

“Oh okay.”

The conversation ends. Another 12 seconds.

“So… Did you guys fuck after I hung up?”

Sevika smiles and Vi chokes in shock. They’re so different. No wonder they’re so close.

“I— sorry, thought we were studying—“

“Who said we were gonna study?” You stare at Vi quizzingly.

“No one did. We mighta fucked.” Sevika shrugs nonchalantly.

“Oh… was it fun? Whatever it was.”

“Ask her.” She nods in direction of the girl whose face is beet fucking red. How cute!

“Vi… was it fun?”

Her eyes droop to the pencil in her hand before flicking it nervously.

“… I guess.”

“You guess?”

“That’s what I said.”

“… Okay.”

Vi sets her book and pencil on your nightstand before releasing a stuttered sigh.

“Tell me what happened if ya wanna,” Softness wafts off your tongue.

Vi swallows, “I… uh…”

“Mhm?”

“We… I didn’t…”

“I gave her head til she cried.” Sevika whispers right in your ear; tickling against your lobe and you’re suddenly winded. Vi’s legs twist until one crosses over the other.

Gave… Oh…

This isn’t new information. You’re 79% sure Sevika was Vi’s first kiss… or you heard something like that in passing, so why does the sudden confirmation make you wanna hide? Curl into your blankets and shield yourself from both of them?

“Oh… fun.” Your face burns underneath the skin.

“Very.”

“Yup…”

“You’re shy now? After all that?” Sevika almost laughs when your eyes drop to the floor.

“It’s uh, easier to talk when no one’s actually there.”

“We coulda been if you’d answered the fucking phone.”

“… Sorry.”

“It’s okay, baby.”

Sevika’s captain of the team for a reason; a leader by nature and Vi allows her to despite her anticipation. She's much closer now, the respectful distance she kept up upon arrival now completely shut, her shoulder touching yours, nearly straddling your leg.

There’s a light tickle on your thigh; Sevika’s index finger barely grazes the skin exposed beneath the hem of your skirt.

“You’re so stiff,” She whiffs tender against your neck and you choke a noise.

“I’m … ‘mscaredtobreathe—“

“Don’t be scared,” Sevika’s whole hand caresses your knee, eases you into her, all while Vi mouths at your neck. “Here, wanna know a secret?”

You release the air in your lungs, “Sure…”

She’ll never tell, so I will. Your head bobs so encouragingly.

Vi told me something after she showered that night.

With every buttery brustle against your shoulder, Vi’s hands gently attack wherever they can reach; the plush of your hips, on your thighs, grabbing at your tummy over your hoodie that takes up too much fucking space for her liking. You can’t stop squirming with every taut pull at the pit of your stomach.

I was sitting on my bed and she came in, and she smelled so good. I was trying to roll up again, but she took my tray and put it on my dresser…

Roll up? Tray? What what what the fuck is she saying—

And she got on her knees in front of me… and she looked so fucking cute just staring up at me like that, like she’d do anything to make me happy… She’s sweet like that if she’s in the mood.

She said ‘may I practice on you, please?’… And I said okay… So she pulls down my underwear and treats me so well. You wanna know who she was practicing for?

Yes, yes, please—

It was you, baby. She kept telling me how good she wanted to make your first time.

A strained noise chokes from your throat, and Vi smiles against your ear before her lips close around your lobe and it’s too much they’re too much—

Uh huh, and her tongue felt so fucking good on me. Almost impressive… and she loved every second of it.

Please… please, I’m—

Listen to that, Violet, she’s so fucking cute, isn’t she?

So sweet, too. Bet she tastes so fucking good.

She’s so hungry for you, baby, Sevika coos at you, Gonna stop teasing and give us what we want?

You agree obediently — desperately, with every thrumming cell you can use at the moment.

Vi’s benign hand rests on your cheek to turn you towards her before kissing you softly. A gentle peck before she pulls away. It’s overstimulating; Vi kissing and touching you like you’re made of glass while Sevika sucks large bruises on the side of your throat. Your nails dig into the muscular thigh that hardly shakes at your grip in attempts to ground yourself, but they fail because you’re about to faint.

Your sun kisses you deeper, holds your face tighter to keep you where she needs to tongue at your lips. You’re trying to keep up with her, to use the muscle like she uses hers, but you’re falling behind. They don’t seem to mind, satisfied with the fact that they’re gonna devour you regardless.

And when Vi lays you back nice and cozy against your pillows while Sevika kisses all over your face, you know you’re fucked.

—

Sevika and Vi take turns kissing you.

It’s a messy and uncoordinated mess of teeth and saliva, mainly because of you, but you like it. You love it. You hope they do, too. The warmth of their bodies beside you resonates deep in your core. Whenever one of them pulls away, the next is more than open to take her place, over and over. Your thighs are already shaking.

Your hoodies raised up thanks to Vi’s wandering hands, tucked right above your rib cage. Your stomach jolts when a feathery finger teases at the band of your skirt.

“You ticklish?” Vi mutters against your cheek.

“… Nope.”

“Yes—” She swipes the same finger against your exposed skin and you jump with a giggle, “you are. Liar.”

“Fuck you!”

“Yeah… I really, really want to.”

She doesn’t give you time to think of a response; just kisses you one last time before climbing onto her knees. Meanwhile, Sevika’s struggling to get comfortable in your bed. She’s essentially on top of you, both her legs wrapped around one of yours.

“Fucking — small ass mattress! I forgot how much I hate these!”

“S-Sorry! Couldn’t afford anything else — mmh!”

Sevika reconnects your mouths while the bed dips beside you. Then there’s lips on your tummy.

Laughter explodes outta you; Sevika can’t help but laugh into your mouth while Vi nibbles at your pudge. Her grin glows on your skin before her tongue glides on your hip. Her attention stays there; sloppy noises from above and below, your gasps swallowed with every bite Vi gives you.

You hardly register her pulling your skirt down. You’re just colder. And fuzzier in the head. Sevika breaks away to ask,

“How wet is she?”

Huh— oh she’s not talking to you yup yup—

“Come see.”

Sevika rises from position and you’re even colder. When she whistles at the spot on your underwear, your thighs squeeze shut… for 000.3 seconds before she pries them open again.

“Stop I’ll fucking cry—“

“Cry about what? That’s so fucking hot. You’re so cute, baby.”

“Bro I wanna die—“

Sevika rolls her eyes, “Bust one last time at least, damn.”

“Can we make it quick please I’m already on the verge—“

“Of cumming?” Sevika purrs.

“Of suicide—“

Vi’s in hysterics. You shouldn’t be this fucking funny. She watches you and Sevika go back and forth with tears in her eyes.

You bite, “Wonky ass foreplay—“

“I’ll strangle you—“

“I’ll like it—“

Both of you are fucking stupid. Neither of you notice Vi tugging your panties down. She almost starts drooling at the sight of your pussy. Swallows down the lump of saliva before it can drip down her chin. You’re wet and throbbing and pretty and you smell like heaven.

You gasp when two curious fingers separate your sticky lips; strings of slick cling to Vi’s digits. Sevika watches with an insatiable hunger.

“What do you like?” Vi whispers, and you shrug.

“I dunno, I’m new here.”

She rolls her eyes, “I mean what do you do when you touch yourself?

“I don’t do that.”

“Never?” Both girls exclaim.

You shake your head. “I tried once and nothing happened so I just ate spaghetti and went to bed.”

“Were you wet?”

Vi’s forbearing with her inquiries, but still, you’re on the fucking spot and you might start sneezing from anxiety. They’re too patient with you; Maybe you’ve been misreading how they were in bed this entire time. You were expecting them to be knuckles deep in every available hole by now.

You’ve never been so nervous, and for you, that’s saying a lot. “I don’t remember, it was years ago.”

“You’ve never used toys or anything?”

“I… No.”

Sevika stares at Vi, and Vi at Sevika, and you at the wall.

Your thighs twitch when velvet nuzzles at them, Vi’s voice deep as the ocean. “I’m gonna try something, tell me if you like it and I’ll keep going… okay?”

You can’t formulate a response but your head bounces in approval. A finger applies the gentlest of pressure on your clit and you expel a wheeze.

“Okay?” Sevika hums from above you, a hand easing underneath your hoodie to massage your breast.

“Ye-ah—“

“Sit up for me, honey,” She whispers and you obey so she can creep in behind you, your back resting against her chest. Both her hands rub at your chest this time, her fingers massage your nipples while Vi strokes your clit in slow, teasing circles.

“How’s this feel, babe?”

“G— good! Great… h-hooray?” How do pornstars dirty talk so eloquently? You’re literally fucking dying right now. Sevika laughs to herself in your neck and your chest burns.

“Yeah? And this?” She utters right before pressing in, flicking you from side to side and your core squeezes tight. You’re dripping and she watches so closely.

“Oh fuck—“

“There she is, good girl, just feel what she’s givin’ you.” Sevika rasps against your shoulder.

You are feeling and it’s too much for your body to comprehend. Your brain’s never been this focused on one thing. On one feeling, especially one this enjoyable. It’s so good it’s so good you love your fucking girlfriend—

“Tell me when you’re gonna cum?” Vi says against your soft skin

“Uhh…? I— oh god—“

“Getting there, baby? Feel how tight you’re getting? I can see it.”

2 ragged inhales and your eyes roll back and your jaw slacks and your nose tickles oh shit—

“Yeah, yeah, give it to me, c’mon—“

ACHOO!

Your thigh squeezes shut when euphoria overtakes your entire system; thighs clamping shut around Vi’s wrist while she giggles and rubs out your pleasure with ease because she’s stronger than you. Your initial efforts of staying as silent as possible were in vain because you’re squealing your little head off. Sevika rests back on her hands and watches like a hawk while you thrash and clench and leak all over her roommate’s hand.

“Good job. Felt nice, hm?”

You struggle to nod because you’re still cumming so hard and her fingers won’t cease on you. Your thighs stick together with your wetness.

“I’m still eating you out, you know that, right?”

Your whines of approval sound wounded.

You couldn’t see it, but when Vi finally pulled her hand from you, slurping noises swiftly followed, alongside Sevika’s hums of satisfaction.

Mentally preparing for your burial.

—

Vi might be obsessed with you.

She’s back in her original position between your thighs — with Sevika this time because she’s greedy — and fuck she’s never been so antsy to give head. She loves it and she loves getting it even more… at least she thought so. The aliens could come crashing down from the clouds and her first focus would still be getting you to soak her face.

You’re fully undressed now, minus a sock that slipped off some fucking where but she doesn’t give a fuck. She’s so desperate to touch you again. It plagues her mind; stuffed with everything that she’s learned about you thus far. You sneeze before you orgasm for fucks sake that’s the cutest shit ever —

Can I?

She’s asking you and you’re whispering yes, please and fuck you moan so pretty when she first glides her tongue on you. Sevika allows her to ease you into the feeling, but she stays close enough to see every drop of slick that glides on Vi’s tongue. You’re so noisy and she loves that. All she can think about is how loud you’d be with your face in her pillow and your hands behind your back while she —

Vi! Violet! I’m cumming again!

You’re a fucking dream. An insane fucking freaky ass dream.

If anyone were to walk past your room right now, they’d be appalled at the ruckus that permeates through your space; sloppy sucking noises and encouraging praises and dehumanizing name calling that makes you grind your hips faster. You’re nearly riding her fucking face.

Vi wishes she could see you in entirety; memorize every thrust and wriggle you give into her face, drowning her in your scent and juices and everything she could ever want in this moment. You’re exactly what she needed; a pliant distraction. You turn her mind off so easily.

Sevika’s greedy and selfish as she raises one of your legs up with ease. You fall back onto the mattress with your back arched to the skies, a cracked wail squeezing from your lungs when another tongue smushes against your clit. Sevika sucks hard at your clit when Vi’s tongue swirls down to meet your entrance. The eager muscle wastes no time to shove inside and catch whatever bursts from you.

She moves on autopilot; eases one finger past your pulsing heat and your legs start to shake. The digit curls deep inside, plunges into you with vigor and determination to get you there, hits a spot that almost lands her a kick in the back of her head, but she catches you; curls an arm around your thigh to keep you still.

And the night — or afternoon or morning, none of you remember, continues like that until you’re drained completely dry and your body contracts from memory.

Hours pass when Sevika and Vi finally start tonguing each other down for your viewing pleasure, and it starts all over again.

—

r/AskReddit

u/artkiller 1s

2 butches are sleeping next to me rn…

never let a hoe tell you to stop following your dreams. i’ve been following mine for almost 3 years and now they’re sleep next to me….

#HAPPYPRIDE

#vi smut #vi arcane #vi fanfic #vi league of legends #sevika #sevika smut #sevika arcane #sevika x you #vi x you #lesbian #rugbyplayer!vi #works 𖧧࣪#arcane smut #arcane

288 notes · View notes

vitalverstappen · 15 hours ago

Text

Cassandra - C. Leclerc

summary: when everyone believes you, what's that like?

pairing: Charles Leclerc x platonic teammate! reader

warnings: Mattia Binotto, swearing, some sexist comments

word count: 3k

a/n: in honor of max winning the WDC, i figured i'd post something. in honor of charles finally losing his shit on the team radio, i figured i'd post this. also it takes place during the 2022 season

masterlist

the tortured drivers department masterlist

2022 was supposed to be your year. You broke onto the F1 scene in 2020 with Haas after working your way up through F3 and F2, championing both levels of racing with ease. You proved yourself time and time again by consistently placing within the points in a less than superior car.

That’s how you got the attention of Ferrari. They offered you a one year deal, and you couldn’t turn it down. You were okay with being the second driver, because you were racing for the most historic team in F1.

Things started out great. The car was a major upgrade from the tractor you were driving with Haas, and the team actively listened to your input and took having a woman in the car seriously.

You and Charles also clicked instantly, which led to some amazing content for the social teams.

“Anything you need, or feel needs changed, let us know. We’re a family here” Mattia said as he gave you the tour of the Ferrari factory.

You couldn’t have drawn up the first two races any better. Both you and Charles were on the podium and it looked like you two were going to give Max and Red Bull a run for their money in the championship races.

The downward spiral started in Australia. From the moment you hit the track for the first time, something felt off. The car was sluggish, it took all of your strength to accelerate and brake properly.

“There’s something wrong with the car.” you told the team, your frustration mounting. “It takes forever to accelerate and then when I do, I can’t break”

“Have you tried leg day?” Mattia asked, a smirk forming on his face, causing you to storm away and find your mechanics.

The Australian Grand Prix ended up being a disaster. You struggled through the laps, barely able to keep up with the field. The car was just too much of a handful. Thirteen laps in, you hand no choice but to retire from the race. The speed was gone, and your confidence was shot.

“I cannot believe he looked me in the eyes and said ‘try leg day’” You fumed as you barged into Charles’ driver room. The frustration was evident in every word, your anger still fresh from the weekend’s events.

Charles looked up from his phone, raising an eyebrow at your entrance. “Well hello to you too” he said with a small chuckle. “What’s going on?”

You let out a deep sigh and recounted the car troubles and the interaction with Mattia. “He actually said ‘try leg day’ to me, like it’s some kind of joke. What happened to ‘if you need anything, let me know’?”

Charles listened intently, a sympathetic look crossing his face. “Hopefully it was just an assembly issue” he said, trying to ease your frustration. ”Imola should go smoothly for the two of us. We both know you’re a hell of a driver.”

Imola was next, and that was somehow even worse than Australia. Instead of acceleration and braking problems, the new issue was the engine. It had to be replaced between practice 3 and qualifying, only for the new one to fail during the race in Imola.

“I have the utmost trust in my team.” You said during your press interviews “We’ve tried upgrades, but they’ve fallen flat. Hopefully Miami provides some better results”

For Miami, the team had reverted your car back to the original set up, the one it had when the season started. The difference was night and day. The car felt responsive, alive in ways it hadn’t in the past few races. As you flew through all three practice sessions and qualifynig, you could feel the weight lift from your shoulders. You had been pushing the limits all weekend, and it had paid off - P2, only behind Charles. Things were looking up.

The problem now was the strategy. As the number two driver, you knew your strategies were mostly going to be defend defend defend but you didn’t realize how badly Ferrari’s lack of adaptability would come into play

The race was shaping up to be intense. Charles had led most of it, with Max behind him. You were right behind Max, keeping a steady pace, but always aware of the massive pressure from the drivers behind. Then, when Charles pitted, you thought, for sure, you’d get the green light to battle Max for the lead. After all, you were right there, in prime position.

Instead, the radio crackled to life.

“Y/n keep defending. Leclerc will be back up there in no time.” Your engineer said

You blinked, incredulous. “I’m sorry what?” You couldn’t believe what you just heard.

“Defend Max. Charles will be back up there to take over. Hold your position” he repeated as if it was the simplest thing in the world.

“Are you fucking serious?” you barked back, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. “I can overtake him for the lead and you want me to defend?!”

Before your engineer could respond, Mattia’s voice boomed over your radio “Defend y/n. Team orders.”

You could feel your irritation building, but there was no choice. Ferrari had spoken. You stayed behind Max, holding position, and waiting for Charles to catch up. Sure enough, Charles had soon found his way back to you, but by that point, Max was far enough ahead that any shot at victory was all but lost.

Later, in the media pen, you stood with the press surrounding you, microphones, shoved in your face. They asked you the usual questions, but you were still stewing over what had happened.

“Yeah, I mean the car felt great” You started, trying to keep your tone even. “We reverted back to the original, pre-upgrades and the car showed it’s worth”

The reporter pressed further. “Now even though the car was great, why do you think you couldn’t pull off the win? You were less than a second behind Max, and chose to defend your position instead of attacking.”

A disappointed sigh escaped your lips. You were tired of repeating the same frustrations. “If it was up to me, I would have attacked. I know we would’ve gotten a different result on the podium today. If we had a different strategy, then we would have gotten many more points.”

“How do you think this result is going to impact the championships?” another reporter asked

You paused, considering the question. “It could make or break it. There’s a large jump of points between one, two and three, and one thrown away strategy can make or break a shot at either championship. I’m just hoping they don’t mess up Charles’ strategies like they have mine.”

As you finished your media duties, you made your way back to the garage, expecting to be alone with your thoughts. But to your surprise, Charles was waiting for you.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you approached

“I, uh, wanted to congratulate you on P3. You had a good race out there” He said sheepishly, his hands shoved in his pockets.

You shrugged, the weight of the day still on you. “I could have won if my strategy wasn’t total shit.” you muttered, your tone flat.

Charles let out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it. P1 and P2 would have been great, but strategy isn’t Ferrari’s strong suit” he admitted, his eyes meeting yours with a shared understanding.

“So I’ve learned.” you replied dryly. “I just hope it isn’t bad enough to fuck up winning either championship”

He nodded, a look of quiet concern in his eyes. “So do I. I’m terrified my shot at a driver’s championship is gonna slip away”

Before you knew it, your interview was trending all over social media. Clips of you talking about the strategy missteps were circulating, and the Tifosi and general F1 fans alike were all over it. They didn’t believe you. They thought you were complaining, too bitter about the loss, and some even accused you of undermining the team. The backlash was stiff.

User1: there’s no way they’re going to mess up the golden boy’s strategy. Mattia cares too much about winning to do that

User2: y/n doesn’t know racing. She’s obviously going to get the shit strategy - she’s not charles

User3: Ferrari needs to get rid of her. She doesn’t belong here #burnthebitch

Before media day in Spain, you got called into Mattia’s office.

“Thank you for joining me on such quick notice y/n” Mattia said with a smile as you walked in

You gave him a polite smile as you sat across from his desk “Of course. Why did you call me in?”

The smile on his face instantly hardened “We need to talk about how you approach the media. You embarrassed myself, along with the rest of the Ferrari staff during Miami.”

You found yourself fixing your posture and dropping the smile you had previously, prepared to go toe to toe with your principal. “I would say I told the truth on how the race was handled. We could have left Miami with eleven more points, had we gone P1 and P2”

Mattia sighed “That may be true, but we know you couldn’t have battled Max safely. Regardless, that was two weeks ago. We need to focus on Spain now.”

“Whatever” You mutter “ If we provide sufficient results, I’ll give you praise. If we don’t, I’ll keep mentioning what needs to be done better. Simple as that”

Spain turned out better for you than it did for Charles. You had finished P4, while Charles was forced to retire. Another blow for Ferrari.

Both of you managed to score points in Monaco. The car felt good and it seemed like the team was back to how they were at the start of the season. That is until Baku.

The start of the race seemed like it was going well. The practices and qualifying went well. Charles was on pole and you were not far behind him at P4. But that’s when the good luck ended. Just like the Australian Grand Prix, your brakes were faulty, and this time your clutch wasn’t working.

“Check the hydraulics - brakes aren’t working again and clutch is out.” You voiced over the radio, concern filling your words

After a few moments of silence, your engineer’s voice filled your ears. “Seems we have a uh hydraulic problem. You need to retire the car.”

You muttered a curse as you found a spot to pull your car off. If it wasn’t a strategy issue, it was the car. If it wasn’t the car, it was something else. Something always had to go wrong.

It was only lap eight and Charles was still driving. You had some hope he could get points for the team and for his championship.

Throwing on a spare headset in the Ferrari garage, you watched as Charles battled through the streets of Baku. Just as quick as he was driving, the problems with his car also began to show. He had to retire only a handful of laps later with a power problem.

While Ferrari’s golden boy wouldn’t have a negative thing to say about them during the pressers, you had much less of a filter.

“You can mark my words that we aren’t winning a championship this year. As much as I want to put faith into our team and our strategies, we’ve shown time and time again we come up short.”

Instead of your remarks being pushed aside by everyone, you found yourself in the spotlight. All eyes were on you as you walked into the paddock for the British Grand Prix. You acknowledged your team out of respect, and they greeted you back, but you could tell there was tension.

“Mattia wanted me to tell you that the strategy for today is the same as usual: protect Charles.” Your engineer told you as the two of you sat down for lunch

You furrowed your eyebrows “Why couldn’t Mattia tell me that himself?”

“He doesn’t think you deserve his time and energy” He said, rolling his eyes

A scoff left your lips “That’s ridiculous. We’re both adults. He needs to act like it.”

“You’re telling me” Your engineer muttered

Before you knew it, it was lights out at Silverstone. The race was a disaster for everyone. While a scary crash had been cleaned up, leading to a restart, another safety car was put out for a stopped car.

“Y/n box box” Your engineer spoke through your earbuds

Under the safety car, you were able to pit and get fresh soft tires. When the race resumed, you quickly found yourself behind Charles.

“Am I defending again?” You asked

“You are free to overtake, but you must give up the position once Charles gets back up after pitting”

“You mean Charles didn’t box under the safety car?”

“Correct.”

“Fucking idiots” You sighed, but did as you were told.

Charles easily gave up the front position to you as he headed to the pit lane. You expected him to make a quick comeback in the next few laps, but as the laps ticked by, the gap remained. The radio crackled with instructions from your engineer, and you kept your focus, pushing through.

And just like that, you crossed the finish line. Your first Grand Prix victory.

The celebrations were a blur - the podium, the champagne, the flashing cameras. As the trophy was handed to you, you felt a surge of pride, but the weight of the race still hung in the air. Charles had been a force throughout the race, and even though you had won, it felt wrong that he hadn’t been able to capitalize on his pace.

After the post-race formalities wrapped up, you found yourself in Charles’ room, finally able to breathe. He greeted you with a grin, the kind that only someone who experienced a dramatic race could wear.

“Congratulations! First win!” Charles said, his voice full of enthusiasm

“You should have fucking won that and we both know it.” You said as you tossed him a Gatorade

Charles caught the bottle with a small chuckle, cracking it open “You’re fucking telling me.” he said, taking a long swing. “At least Mattia didn’t chastise you on national TV.”

You leaned against the wall, your arms crossed. “Maybe we’ll both be off speaking terms with him by the end of the season,” you joked, but there was no humor in the situation. “But seriously, what did he say?”

Charles groaned, clearly not looking forward to recounting the conversation “Basically that I needed to listen to team orders. He was pissed that I was pissed that I didn’t win the thing. Said I needed to trust that the team knows what they’re doing.”

“They know what they’re doing?” You raised an eyebrow “Because the last time I checked, they’ve messed up both of our races this season”

“Tell me about it” His tone shifted, frustration building, “I need him out.”

A small grin tugged at the corner of your mouth “Twenty bucks he’s out of his job by the end of the season”

Charles hesitated for a moment, then extended his hand “Deal”

The rest of the season trudged along, with highs and lows in the car, the strategy, and the relationship between Mattia and his drivers. There were some days he would be all over their radios encouraging them, while others he would avoid them like the plague.

And sure enough, once Abu Dhabi came, Charles and Ferrari were so far behind Max and Red Bull that it was impossible to catch up to them in either championship. Mattia announced that he would be stepping down at the end of the season, and you had repaired your rocky relationship with your team, allowing you to renew your contract with Ferrari.

It was the final time in the media pen this season, and it felt much different. The usual questions about the ups and downs of the season were there, but now they came with a certain respect - respect for the struggles you had endured and for the candidness with which you handled it all. Your honest take on Ferrari’s performance had earned its fair share of criticism, but it had also sparked conversations, both within the paddock and among fans.

The final question from the reporter hit differently. The interviewer’s tone wasn’t mocking, but rather filled with a certain curiosity. “How does it feel to know that you had called it earlier in the season, that Ferrari weren’t going to win either championship this year?”

The question hung in the air for a moment as you processed it. The emotions of the entire season flashed through your mind: the excitement of the podiums early on, the disappointment after races like Miami and Baku, the frustrations with the strategies, and the battles you fought on and off the track. It had been a rollercoaster, and while it hadn’t turned out the way you had hoped, you were still standing.

You cracked a smile as you spoke, a mix of pride and exhaustion “Oh, so you guys believe me now?” you said, your voice light but laced with the weight of everything that had happened. “Have a good winter break. I’ll see you in Bahrain”

It was the moment of closure you needed. The reporter thanked you for your time, before wishing you a good break as well. As you walked away from the media pen with Charles by your side, the season’s tension finally seemed to release, at least for a moment.

Charles, sensing the mood, nudged you. “That was… honestly, impressive. You know, calling it before anyone else.”

You let out a short laugh. “Yeah, I guess I had a feeling.” you said, shrugging. “At least I wasn’t wrong.”

Charles smirked, clearly tired but also relieved that the season was over. “Let’s just hope next year’s a little less… chaotic, yeah?”

“Agreed.”

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melliemell · 19 hours ago

Text

Pairing: Dazai x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, car sex (unfortunately for Kunikida), breath play, dazai levels of whining, but he always gets what he wants doesn't he, Approx. 1.5k words

“Don’t even think about it,” you breathed, grinding your hips against Dazai’s. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as a moan left his lips before it turned into a strained laugh. Dazai guided your hand to his neck. He bit at your lower lip playfully, languid thrusts drawing out your pleasure with every deep stroke.

“Pretty please?” Dazai whispered to your ear, his lazy smile widening as your fingers grazed the bandages he always wrapped himself in. “I’ll be a real good boy about it.”

“You’ve been anything but for the last half-hour,” you retorted. “I’ll think about it.”

Dazai pouted, his trademark gaze of innocence returning. He knew how to get what he wanted; even if it required you to play this game of fetch every time. Instead, you ground your hips down, enjoying the friction of him bottoming out in you.

The parking lot was empty this late, keeping your undertakings pleasantly obscured under the roof of your car.

You weren’t meant to be here, precisely.

Nor Kunikida’s car– it was supposed to be back hours ago. But then again Dazai was ever the opportunist; why waste a perfectly good vehicle when you’ve already used it the whole day to spy on a client? Might as well give yourself a treat for a job well done.

Dazai brushed your hair to the side, teeth sinking into your soft skin. You couldn’t move much, your hips straddling Dazai’s and the steering wheel digging into your back with his every thrust. He was keeping you in place, not giving much of any opportunity even as you wriggled and panted against his lips.

Postponing your orgasm was becoming somewhat of a speciality of his, especially with how grumpy it got you the longer he played around. That was what he wanted, more often than not. Predicting your actions was easy, and knowing how far to push to reach your breaking point–

easier.

Then he might get what he wanted.

Your hands drew him closer, your focus waning as the pressure built up again. You weren’t going to let Dazai ruin this one too. Maybe it counted as giving in or perhaps you felt like you were taking control this time, but…

Delicate fingers trailed around Dazai’s neck, making him shudder the moment he realised what you were up to. He wanted it, of course. As much as it annoyed you how desperate he would get only to have your hands wrap around his throat, the pressure building with every second.

You knew he liked the thrill of it. The suicidal maniac in him was ecstatic–playing with life like that. You on the other hand felt your worry building every time he so much as looked at you with that pleading gaze. It was only a play, no real harm behind it.

Plenty of people were into breath play, and yet…it felt different.

It scared you, sometimes—just a bit.

“Change of heart?” Dazai’s eyes were hooded. He looked beautiful like this, flush all the way down his chest. His hand trailed up your thigh, gripping tightly.

“We make a deal?” you asked, arching forward. He was easy to bargain with, like this. “I do this, and you give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had? No half-assing here, Osamu.”

Dazai fluttered his lashes and his grin turned vicious. “I do as you please, oh great beauty of mine.” And you could only blink your eyes closed, hands wrapped around his neck in preparation.

Dazai raised you up suddenly, his cock slipping out of you.

“Wh-at?” you asked, grabbing into his shoulders for balance.

“I’m a fast worker, what can I say?” Dazai smirked.

His hand went to your entrance, drawing slow steady drags of his fingers against your wet pussy lips. The moment his fingers entered you, a shudder crawled up your spine.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. His fingers made quick work, moving within your walls and twisting to your sweet spot often enough to make you dizzy. You almost forgot what you were meant to do with your hands.

“Fuck,” you said, trying to force your attention back into focus.

Dazai was looking at you, enjoying every second of it.

A few more strokes and his hand pulled away, only for his cock to enter you again, sudden and filling. Your thighs clenched around him, breath coming ragged. The fingers now covered in your wetness went to skilfully move over your clit, thumb rocking back and forth in time with Dazai’s every thrust.

You had to remind yourself to breathe, eyes back to Dazai’s face. He was watching you, head thrown back as a smirk tilted his lips. You could have been a sight to see for all you knew.

But that didn’t bother you.

You reached up, tracing his jawline with both hands before going lower. Dazai’s whole focus was on you, every detail engraving itself in his mind as you wrapped your hands around his neck.

Such delicate work under these circumstances wasn’t ideal. You felt Dazai try to swallow under your hands, the pressure barely there to distract him. But he knew this was only a warmup. It takes time for you to ease into it; this wasn’t the first time you were hesitant to do this.

Dazai’s cheeks reddened. Slowly, ever so slowly, your pressure increased, and you marvelled at the way Dazai moaned weakly from the sensation of literary being suffocated.

Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut, head thrown back as his hold on you waist tightened.

He was beautiful like this, so vulnerable and entirely at your mercy.

You tried to regulate, watching his every twitch and grunt for the air he lacked. You were bringing him to the brink only to relax just enough to get his bearings back together.

Your legs were trembling from the strain, seeing as Dazai’s trust became sporadic, trying to force out as much of his strength into fucking you. Your lower belly tingled with your release which was steadily building up.

Dazai’s thumb didn’t stop, his hand going down to your entrance to gather more of your wetness before coming back to stroke at your clit. You could barely breathe at this point.

Dazai looked at you, choked sounds falling from his open mouth even as his upper teeth bit into his lip. He was having the time of his life.

“Good boy.” You smiled, diving for a kiss as your hands squeezed firmer, swallowing Dazai’s whine as your tongue trailed inside his mouth. Saliva trickled down his chin, making him a bigger mess with every second.

You felt his legs spasm, the tension increasing. Your pussy clenched around him, just the way he liked before he was near.

You held him, not letting go even as his belly fluttered, twitching with every strain to push his orgasm forward. You forced him into the seat, Dazai’s neck bared prettily as you hovered over him, the sound of your kissing filling the air almost as much as his rapid trusts as he struggled to reach you.

“Come on, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” you panted against Dazai’s lips.

Pleasure seeped in, not suddenly this time, but a steady buildup of more more more–and you were cumming, cunt fluttering around his cock enough to force Dazai’s eyes open, staring wide at the rooftop as a pitiful moan vibrated right from his chest. You felt his cock twitch inside you a moment later, his spent shooting inside you, warm and thick.

You only loosened your hold on him when you were sure he was coming down from the high. Dazai’s head lolled to the side, eyes still closed as he breathed hard between coughs for air. He looked utterly exhausted, his face pale with overstrain. He barely had the strength to move, let alone slip out of you.

Not that you could help, flopping against his chest to breathe in his musky scent. The air around you was hot, almost foggy. Like in those sappy romance movies where the couple run away to their car to finally have some alone time.

Except this one wasn’t yours.

You pulled yourself back, reaching with a groan for your phone.

“Whatcha doin’?” Dazai asked, kissing at your shoulder. He looked so pretty as he blinked at you, face serene.

“Looking for a nearby car wash,” you said, forcing your eyes to the screen.

A silence before Dazai’s hearty laugh filled the space. You looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“Were you expecting something else?”

“Not in the slightest,” Dazai said, clearing a tear from his eye. He still smiled when he said, “Kunikida sure has a great friend in you.”

“In both of us.” You leaned in for a quick peck. “Seeing as we’ll be splitting the bill.”

Dazai groaned but it didn’t sound as sincere as he would’ve liked. He pulled you in close, pouting all the while as you pretended not to notice him. He got his way this time around, it’s not like he had much to complain about.

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tch8mnis · 3 days ago

Text

why?

warnings: cursing, heart breaking angst, weddings, mentions of pregnancy. jude fucked up loool

word count: 1000

the sun beamed down on the beautiful girl in front of him. the long white dressed complimented her brown skin. the mix of different people sat only a few feet away from them, both of their parents in the front with tears in their eyes watching their children continue their love story since 12 years old. the alter was beautifully decorated. the white peonies really stood out as it matched the flower in her hair. the 2 foot wedding cake stood behind the crowd of people with two mini figures of them standing on the top. jude made sure to get an extra small cheesecake though, because he knew that was her favorite. the birds chirping in the air was the cherry on top for this atmosphere.

so why did he feel this way?

this day was supposed to be the best of his life. tying the knot with his childhood lover was a big moment for him and her. he's been waiting for this day ever since younger him promised that they'd stay together forever back on the playground. today he woke up with a smile on his face, ready to make his lover a wife.

so why?

why did he have this dread behind his brown eyes? why did he suddenly feel this negative aura around him as the wedding officiant began his speech. why did he have the urge to run away? run away from reality. from his family. from the love of his life.

he should be happy. fucking hell he should be buzzing. he should be over the moon with excitement. he loves her so much.

so fucking much.

then why?

he looked into the eyes of his girl. both their hearts full of lover. she pressed her lips together before opening her mouth to say her vows. he should've been listening. gosh he should've listened to her words. but that aching feeling in his chest made her speech go through one ear and out the other.

the officiant turned to him and indicated he said his vows. so he did. he memorized them for months now. he wrote them down on a piece of paper the day before he proposed as if he knew she would say yes. he guesses his instincts was right then because there they were standing at the alter. he read his vows 3 times everyday leading up to the moment. he put his heart and soul into those words. he didn't realize he was done speaking until he saw the tears roll down her face. those words had warmed her heart tremendously.

so why did it leave a bad taste in his mouth?

the officiant started speaking again but he didn't hear a word. a smile was plastered on his face. but why did it feel so fake? he felt himself start to tear up. but was it tears of happiness or sadness and dread?

gosh he felt so guilty. he was ruining this day for the both of them and he didn't know why. it wasn't on purpose. of course it wasn't. it just happened.

he wanted to stop feeling this way. this day should be filled with happiness for fuck sake. he needs to get his shit together and act right. he can't do this to the person he loves.

so why did he?

why did he feel his heart drop when he saw his lover say those two words. those two words that should've been the easiest words to say in his life but now somehow the hardest.

he felt all eyes on him, anticipating his answer. an insane amount of pressure on his shoulders. he should be saying "i do". he has to say "i do". both his heart and his gut was telling him to say "i do." he needs to say it.

why’d he say the opposite?

why didn't he feel anything when he saw his lover's face drop as her eyes went wide. why didn't he feel anything when she whispered that heartbreaking "what?" with more tears rolling down her face and her shoulders sagging with disappointment and embarrassment? why did he feel nothing when he heard the gasp of the crowd and met the heartbroken eyes of his mom who looked at him with disappointment?

he felt overwhelmed with the amount of eyes on him. so he did what he knew best.

he ran.

he rushed down the pathway covered with flowers and made his way towards the entrance of the ceremony leaving his woman behind with a bleeding heart.

he swore he heard a loud sob come from behind him and his heart broke even more but he convinced himself he didn’t and it was all in his head.

he pulled out his phone and texted his personal driver who arrived in no more than 90 seconds.

he sat himself in the back seat and the car immediately drove off. the driver asked zero questions.

the reality of what he did hit him 20 minutes later, still stuck in the back seat of a car. he was so stupid. so fucking stupid. he wanted to disappear. he felt so ashamed. but he still did it.

his phone made a noise. someone had texted him. he looked down and saw his brother's name. he opened the conversation and his heart dropped. it was one picture. one picture that changed his whole life.

the picture was of inside a box that was wrapped up. there sat an ultrasound picture and a stick that had two red lines on it.

his hands felt sweaty and his eyes went blurry.

that was one of his biggest dreams. to build a family with her. have kids and live in a big house to grow old with each other. that's what he wanted. that's what he always wanted. and he ruined that.

she was pregnant and he had no idea.

she planned to surprise him and he made her worse nightmare come true.

what the fuck had he just done....

and why?

authors note: i GENUINELY don’t know why i wrote this 😭 i was reading a whole lot of jude angst today and this idea suddenly came to my mind?? what’s wrong with me lmao IM SORRY 💔💔💔

request always open!

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x black!reader #jude bellingham angst #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham fanfic #real madrid #football x reader #tch8meniwrites!

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d1xonss · 19 hours ago

Note

Hi there! I was wondering if i could get some straight Daryl Dixon smut where fem!reader is asking him to choke her for the first time? If not it’s totally okay! love your writing! <3

Something New

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 2

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : ⚠️ Smut (18+)

✧ Word Count : 1.6k

AN ~ Oooh I don’t think I’ve ever done any kind of smut like this before, but I’m happy to try! And let’s preface this first before anything else; no I don’t think Daryl would realistically feel comfortable choking someone. He strikes me as the type of man that doesn’t want to harm you in any way during something so intimate, even if you asked for it. However, I think early seasons Daryl would definitely be a little rougher during sex which is why I planned for the season 2 era. But the moral of the story is this is just for fun, and I tried to keep it as accurate as possible.

Hope you enjoy! xoxox

It had been a rough couple of days. Between getting stranded on the highway, losing Sophia, and Carl getting shot, it was safe to say that the group had seen better days. The recent events had taken a toll on all of you, the stress beginning to build up to the point of no return. And it was no surprise to you seeing Daryl was the one who was taking it the hardest.

He was constantly tense and rigid, a permanent scowl on his face while nothing seemed to be going the way it was supposed to. Though luckily for him, you knew just the way to relieve some of that…tension.

Your gasps and moans could be heard by no one near as Daryl had taken it upon himself to move your shared tent far away from the others to get some distance. At first you were weary of the idea, but now you thought it just might’ve been the best one he’s ever had. Considering the filthy sounds he was pulling from you, it would be mortifying to face the others the following morning.

The small tent was pitch black, the only thing you were able to see were the soft outlines of the different shapes around you, along with feeling Daryl’s hot pants on the back of your neck as he continuously pounded into you. The sound of your wetness with every thrust filled the small space, almost suffocating as the sleeping bag beneath you was providing little to no comfort from the harsh ground beneath you. But with your legs tangled together and the feel of his dick hitting your hilt over and over again, the feel of tiny rocks below was far from your mind.

“Oh, fuck.” you whimpered, desperately grabbing and gripping at his arms that were wrapped around you as his pace was rough and determined. Your pussy was throbbing, the feel of his hips slapping against your ass was growing more urgent as you felt your wetness begin to run down your leg.

He grunted from behind you, feeling your walls clench around him, “That’s right, fuckin take it.” he growled into your ear, the next thing you felt were his teeth teasingly biting the shell.

You threw your head back in ecstasy, your toes curling all while trying to patch his pace with your own movements. But let’s face it, you were growing tired. And he had more stamina than the two of you combined. He could’ve kept this up all night if he wanted to just to torture you a bit more than he already was, having slowed down multiple times right when he felt you were about to come.

His large, rough hands then moved from your hips up to your breasts, giving them a generous squeeze before teasing your nipples just enough to get you to squirm even more. Gently pinching and pulling them to hear more of those delicious sounds. You cried out almost in agony with how much he was teasing you, the feeling both pleasurable and miserable. But Daryl couldn’t lie, he loved it. Hearing you like this, so aching and hungry for him drove him absolutely crazy.

Your bodies were sheen in a thin layer of sweat, the desire and lust growing even thicker with every plunge of his hips or bites at your skin. You wanted to feel him everywhere. Which is why your hand impulsively reached for his, tugging it toward your throat in a sex drunk kind of state. Though Daryl however quickly snapped out of it when his mind processed your actions, his movements stopping completely which only caused you to whine a bit in protest as you thought he only did it to tease you again. But what you couldn’t see was his expression was quite serious. Never in a million years had he even considered what you had silently asked him to do.

“What the hell are ya doin?” he asked, his tone rough with desire yet still somehow soft when it came to speaking to you.

His words brought you out of your daze, your eyes widening a little at what you had unconsciously done in a fit of impatience and longing. You had never outright admitted that you had a kind of kink, a fantasy perhaps of him wrapping his strong hands around your throat. But now that your secret was basically exposed, you felt extremely embarrassed, silently thankful that the tent was dark enough to where you couldn’t see his face. Although you could sense the tension resurfacing, the tension you so desperately tried to take away from him, was suddenly back within an instant.

“Sorry…” you huffed quietly as you tried to catch your breath, “Heat of the moment.”

Daryl was silent for what seemed like ages, leaving you thinking you had ruined the entire moment as you didn’t have a clue at what was going on in his head. But surprisingly enough, it wasn't what you had anticipated.

The idea of choking, spanking, or any kind of harmful thing really had never before crossed his mind despite how rough he could be at times. He never wished to intentionally hurt you, especially after the trust you had built up over the weeks of knowing one another. You were important to him, even though he had never been brave enough to admit that out loud, you were still quite literally the only person that mattered to him now. But seeing as clearly you weren’t opposed to the idea of exploring something new, he figured...maybe he could get behind it.

His face leaned down toward your ear again from behind, “You tell me if it’s too much…ya hear me?” he said almost sternly to show you how serious he was about this.

Your brows furrowed in confusion, opening your mouth to question him, but you didn’t get the chance before his hand came up to gently squeeze at your neck. Your eyes widened, a surprised whimper escaping your lungs while his hips slowly began to buck up into you again, picking up right where he had left off.

The tightness he held around your throat immediately sent you back to that blissful haze, feeling your limbs begin to tingle as he continued to send shockwaves of pleasure up your spine. You moaned loudly when he squeezed a bit tighter, testing the waters with how much you could take. But it didn’t hurt at all surprisingly, like he somehow knew exactly what he was doing though he had never tried this before in his life. It was almost concerningly perfect, and you were in heaven.

“God, you sound so pretty.” he breathed, his pace increasing as he began to manhandle you, “You really like this, don’t you?” he asked almost teasingly.

But you couldn’t bring yourself to hear the tone of his voice, only managing to focus on how good it felt as you nodded your head frantically. Silently begging him to let you finish this time.

He choked you a bit harder when you didn’t respond, “Come on girl…tell me how good it feels.” he groaned.

You panted heavily while simultaneously swallowing to try and lubricate your dry throat, “Feels good- feels so good.” you stuttered pathetically.

Daryl hummed in approval as he heard your response, leaning his head down to kiss and lick at the skin of your shoulder while his free hand moved down to rub circles on your clit. A sharp gasp was pulled from you as you arched your back into him, your vision growing almost spotty at the amount of sensations he was giving you. Your legs began to twitch and he could feel your walls clenching around him even more intensely as you neared your orgasm again. But instead of slowing down, he finally continued to draw it out.

Your moans and whines grew louder and louder as you felt the knot in your stomach tighten, his hand over your throat only making your brain feel more fuzzy. You almost couldn’t control the sounds you were making anymore as you finally came, crying out his name in the state of bliss you had craved so much. It was like for a moment you saw stars, feeling as if your soul left your body for a moment as his fingers continued to work on your sensitive clit. The feeling of your tight walls consuming him left him not far behind as he quickly managed to pull out of you, before spilling himself onto your back with a low groan of pleasure.

It took minutes for the two of you to finally come down from your high, catching your ragged breaths while your bodies felt almost too limp to even attempt to move. But eventually, his hand retracted back from your neck as he slowly sat up a bit, leaving a tender kiss on the back of your head to express what he couldn’t with words.

“We…we need to do that again.” you breathed quietly, slumping onto your back from exhaustion.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your silent request, shaking his head though you couldn’t see, “Let’s wait a few hours at least…don’t wanna kill ya.” he said lightheartedly.

You huffed softly, “I think you already did. I feel like I can’t move my legs.”

His eyes glanced down, his hand coming up to run along your hip before traveling down your thigh, “How bout a massage then, hm?”

It’s funny, you thought. One minute he was saying the dirtiest things, fucking you until you forgot your own name. And then the next, he was sweetly suggesting a massage after his own doings. But then again, you would never complain. Perhaps after this, he would be more keen to trying new things…

~ Thanks for reading!

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softpascalito · 2 days ago

Text

Dulcissima I Marcus Acacius x Vestal!Reader I Chapter II

! This Fic contains major spoilers for Gladiator II ! Proceed with caution !

Pairing: Marcus Acacius x Vestal Virgin Reader Rating: Explicit / MDNI Word count: 1.8k+ Tags: Secret Relationship, Vestal Virgins, Religious Guilt, Gladiator fights, Gladiator II compliant (more or less), Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Ancient Rome, Age Difference, Slow Burn (ish), More tags to be added (!)

AO3 // Series Masterlist // Masterlist // Fic Playlist

notes: ! last major spoiler warning for gladiator II below the cut !

thank you all so much for the love on the first chapter. we delve a little bit into their backstory now (gladiator II is set around 211 AD). feel free to let me know if you are interested in reading how these two get to where we picked up before <3 i also have a little acacius playlist that fits the vibe of this fic very well. feel free to check it out here!

vestal (vigins) - priestesses of vesta, virgin goddess of Rome's sacred flame (details will be explained later in the story) dulcissima - sweetest (fond nickname) domus - a roman house palla - a traditional mantle for women paludamentum - a cloak worn by high ranking military officials

Chapter II

209 AD

The domus sits just on the edge of Palatine Hill, on the side opening towards the Forum Romanum and Via Nova. You have passed below it more times than you can count, though you have rarely walked the small street that weaves up the hill and leads to the edge of the property.

Many of the neighboring houses are too harsh for your taste, with columns twice as wide as your body and barely a shrub of greenery in front of them. A supposed sign of strength, no doubt. But when passing the house with the large garden, you like to take as much time as you dare, occasionally catching a whiff of the lavender that grows all around it.

It reminds you of the shadowy figure you often saw walking those same gardens after dark, many years past. A bereaved woman, shrouded in dark cloth, keeping her head down as she tended to the plants with dainty fingers, decorated with a thick gold ring that framed a green stone. You remember lingering too long on your way past the iron fence once, fascinated by the way her dress flowed in the wind. She had called out to you, beckoning you towards her.

Lucilla was not a terrifying woman but you knew that every misstep could cost you, especially in your position as a vestal. She had knelt down in front of your trembling form, brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with an expression you did not understand. But she had whispered words that you did. Asked you not to collect the water after dark, to stay with the older vestals. Then she had offered you a small bundle of lavender.

You stuffed it under the linen of your bed later that night, breathing in a scent that felt like a world where a woman could freely roam her garden and the city beyond, who did not have to be afraid.

The guard at the gate gives a small bow of courtesy when you reach him and moves to the side, allowing you to tread the stone path that leads up to the house. “The General is inside. Please, knock.”

A gentle “Thank you” escapes your lips as you reach to lift your stola just enough to not step on it. The torches lining the way are extinguished, not needed during the day. A short glance down the hill allows you to spot your own home, right beside the rounded building that is the Temple of Vesta.

When you reach the wooden door, you raise your hand and will yourself to knock with enough force to make it heard.

You can hear someone calling out from inside and a few seconds later, a man with broad shoulders opens the door. His gaze flies over you briefly–taking in your white tunic and the palla wrapped around your shoulders. The thin veil attached to your headdress and all the linen of your clothes tucked neatly into place are usually enough indication for whoever is stood in front of you to understand your status.

“General Acacius?” You ask softly, your eyes taking in his brown eyes and the curve of his nose, one that looks like it belongs on a statue rather than a living man.

“Vero, that is me. Please, come inside.” He gives a small bow, gesturing past himself and you nod at the invitation, gracefully stepping into the house and finding yourself in an atrium that renders you speechless. The columns that line its sides are slightly worn, flowers stretching along them towards the upper floor. Stone basins and pots holding a variety of plants stand at almost every corner of the open space, making it feel more like a garden than the stuck-up room you would have expected in a Generals home.

Acacius’s hand hovers behind you, guiding you past the fountain that holds a few orange fish and to the opposite end of the open room, though he never actually touches you. “Please. Have a seat.”

“Thank you,” you repeat your earlier words, lowering yourself onto the chair he indicated.

“Would you like some wine? Perhaps some grapes too?” He waves to one of the servants, who promptly places two glasses on the table, though Acacius takes the carafe and dismisses him with a small nod as he begins to pour you some of the dark red liquid. You make to reach for your glass to hold it steady but he shakes his head quickly. “Allow me. Please.”

You nod at that, leaning back and waiting politely while he pours himself a drink as well. It allows you a moment to take in his form up close, the white tunic and his red paludamentum wrapped around his body. A cloak fastened with a gold brooch, one that–similar to your headwear–makes him a respected man no matter where he goes. You wonder if he feels the same about it, that some days it's more like a heavy curse weighing one down. Then again, he is a General of Rome. You are a priestess of Vesta. Your paths may cross today but you are certain they look very different from one another.

He sits down across from you, a small sigh leaving his lips as he toasts in your direction and takes a sip of his wine. Then, he leans to the side and produces two rolls of parchment. “I had to make some adjustments to my will. It was kept by one of your sisters, but I believe she has finished her service with the Vestals since I last saw her.”

You give him a small smile as you take the parchment from him, nodding. “Yes, she left the year before last. But of course I will be just as happy to keep the will for you.”

His eyes fly over your face briefly and he gestures to the rolls on your lap. “I crossed out the old version. I married, you see.”

You stare at him for a moment before nodding a little too quickly. “Of course. Yes, I–The lady of this house I presume–” You break off, realizing your mistake. If he indeed married Lucilla, he is now the head of this house. “What I meant–” you add hastily. “–is that it is your house now. And the house is beautiful, I mean–” It’s the second time you stop in the middle of the sentence. But this time, it is because you have dared to look back over at the General. And he is not even trying to conceal his amusement.

You bow your head in another silent apology and he tuts softly. “You are quite right, you know. As far as I am concerned, she is the woman of this house.” A smile plays around his lips. “And I would not have it any other way.”

It’s clearly not his atrium that surprises you. He is not what you would expect a General to be. Especially not one that is about to entrust you with his will. “I give my word that I will see it is stored safely,” you reassure him, carefully taking another small sip of the wine.

Acacius nods. “I appreciate that. You have my thanks.” He pauses briefly, his gaze darting around the atrium for a split second before landing back on you. “You seem uneasy. Do I make you uncomfortable?”

“No. No, of course not, General.” It is not a lie, per se. But you are all too aware that it sounds like one.

“Is it your first time taking a will?”

You do not know how he does it. He seems to have read you so easily–or he is just very well connected to know such a thing. “Yes. It is, but I promise–”

“I trust you,” he states almost casually while reaching for the grapes and offering you some as well. You politely decline.

“Forgive me but … you met me mere moments ago. How can you know I am trustworthy?” Your eyes catch his and this time you hold his gaze, not missing the small glint in them.

“All of Rome trusts the Vestals. If not you, who would we put our faith into?”

“The gods. You should put your faith in the gods,” you say quietly.

“I prefer to put my faith in people,” Acacius responds, though his voice is slightly lowered as well. “The gods do not fight our wars.”

You stand up so abruptly that you almost drop the scrolls. “I should go.”

He seems perplexed for a moment but quickly catches himself and nods, standing up before leading you back the same way you came. You allow yourself a quick sideward glance at his face and are met with a professionally neutral expression. At the door, you turn towards him, giving a last, small bow. “My General.” His title falls off your lips like the silk they sell at the market, flowing effortlessly. His brown eyes lingering on you as you address him–even if normal custom–as yours, make your stomach clench slightly.

Acacius lets his hand hover beside you again, never quite touching you. Yet you almost seem to be able to feel his touch. “I did not mean offense.” His voice is much softer than it was when he greeted you.

“Of course.” You force yourself to smile and step away, shaking your head at the brief moment of confusion you allowed yourself. He is a General, you are a Vestal. He has sworn his vows and you have sworn yours. And both include promises that are enough to keep you at a few feets distance for several lifetimes. “Please, call for me if you ever need to make adjustments to the will. And–” You force yourself to smile a little wider. “Congratulations on your marriage.”

You turn around before he can speak again, suddenly wanting to put some distance between yourself and the house you so longed to see from inside–until you did.

***

211 AD

“You have to go, dulcissima.”

Acacius' voice is quiet, the back of his head resting against the stone pillar as he watches you drag the chaise lounge across the atrium, muttering under your breath when you have to maneuver it around the small fountain in the middle of the space.

“Please.”

You shake your head just as you reach him, gesturing for him to sit down. His begging breaks your heart–it always has. But the thought of leaving him here with open wounds is worse.

“Let me see your arm.” He doesn't move, forcing you to become a bit more stern. “Acacius. Let me see the arm. I am not leaving until you do.”

A curse slips out under his breath but he does as told, sitting down and allowing you to inspect his wound. The rustle of the chain on his ankle breaks the quiet as he moves and you pointedly ignore it as you crouch down in front of him.

You let your hand hover above his skin for a moment, taking a small breath. It is still difficult to break the rules you have been taught for so long sometimes. You tell yourself that this is not even a sin, that you are merely caring for a wounded Gladiator. It tricks your brain enough to lower your hand onto his skin. You do not believe it tricks Vesta.

“He should not have fought you,” you mumble quietly, thinking back to how Lucius was swinging away the moment he entered the arena.

“He did not understand. And it is how the Colosseum works, you know this.” Acacius mutters back, tensing slightly when you run your finger over the cut the sword left on his arm. It doesn't seem too deep but you know Acacius must be in much more pain than he lets on.

“I hate that place,” you whisper, surprising yourself with the force of your words. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes and you stiffen when you feel a calloused hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear before brushing over your cheek.

“Oh, sweet,” he mutters, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “I am fine. I made it out, see? I promised I would.”

“They were going to shoot you,” you choke out, trying and failing to hold back the tears now slipping down your cheeks. You feel his lips touch the crown of your head briefly.

“But they didn't. Now, please, I will take care of this. But you have to leave.”

You wipe your tears with the back of your hand and shake your head again, blinking a few times to clear your vision and shift your attention back to his wound. “How would you take care of this? They have sentenced you to death. The Emperors have called for it, in front of the whole empire.”

“I can talk to them. I have things to offer, even now. They do not know how to lead an army. But they need someone who does. And–”

“You would sell your soul to stay alive,” you whisper as you reach for a piece of cloth and begin to wipe down the crusted blood.

Acacius sighs. “No. But I would sell my soul to stay with you.”

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junedenim · 1 day ago

Text

wrap my head around it all

a whole new thing

warnings: it's just fluff

word count: 3k

You're eating a bagel. He's drinking a cup of coffee. There's an ache that's been relieved. It feels this way whenever he comes home and he's been home for a month now but he still feels just how good this is, looking across at you as you scarf down a bagel so quickly he fears you'll choke.

"It isn't going anywhere." He chuckles at his own joke. He's ashamed of himself, you don't have to tell him.

And you know that. You wipe your hands on a napkin and throw your head back with a groan. "I'm so hungry."

He grins. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

You hum in thought, taking your time like you're concentrating on solving world hunger. Then, you sigh, your shoulders slumping as your hands return to what remains of your bagel. "No. I'll spoil lunch."

He chuckles and rests his head in the palm of his left hand. His gaze is soft and relaxed, focused on you. "I hate to break it to you but we're way past noon. That is your lunch."

You whine and rub the cream cheese off the corners of your mouth. "Fine. Then, I'm spoiling dinner. How would your parents like it if I didn't eat anything?"

He laughs at your worry and picks up his cup of coffee, dragging a sip from it. "I think they'll understand. Plus, I highly doubt you won't be hungry by dinner time."

Your shoulders slump as you chew the remains of your bagel. "I know, it's dreadful. This constant state of hunger I've been forced into."

"We all appreciate it," Alex assures, hiding his amusement from your frustration. "At least you're not retching every 20 minutes."

You lean back in your chair and drop the dirty napkin with the rest of your bagel's trash. "Small favours, huh?"

"Do you want me to get you another one?" Alex offers again. His attentiveness to you has only grown through the years. Perhaps, now, it's at an all-time high. But he likes being able to take care of you. It's the least he can do.

You shake your head. "No, I'd like to walk around a little now." It's cold, windy, and slightly raining. People are rushing into the cafe from the cold, but you want to walk around in it. He supposes there is where you lose him but he'll tighten his coat, put on a hat, and slip on some gloves if it's what you want. Besides, if it'll stop you complaining about how hot the cafe is then he can't complain.

He fixes the askew hat on your head and opens the door for you. As you two walk down the street, he places his hands in his pockets, forming a loop of his arms. You slip your arm through it, tugging him close, brushing your side up against his. "It's going to rain all week," Alex comments on the weather patterns.

"I like it when it rains." You are smiling through the gloom. In that smile, there's a lifetime of love and it is so strange that it feels so normal for him to feel this way. It was never a gradual thing. It was sudden the first time you talked to one another and he felt that he could reach out to you and you would never push him away. Silver lining is cheesy but all that tension he builds throughout his life is somehow relieved in the glimmer of your teeth.

The mundanity is the craziest. Everything felt like it had to be a big show of things. He had to slick back his hair and play make-believe in every moment but now, it's a sigh of relief. To come home to someone—to come home to you and not have to play pretend anymore. To roll out of bed and not have to decide who to play today, instead, decide where to go for breakfast.

Maybe it's getting older, but he thinks it lies in learning the importance of caring for someone else. He always has with his friends and family and past girlfriends but there's something different here. It's him relinquishing himself to that, allowing you to look after him. To wake up and find you've made coffee or come home and find you've bought him a new shirt. It's simple. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping. It's so dull but in fact the greatest thing ever. That feeling has only grown as of late.

"Where are we walking to?" He asks.

You shrug and look over at him. "I don't know. We could...window shop or...," you think, tapping your finger on your chin, "go to the park or—"

"In the rain?" He questions, an eyebrow raised.

You smile and lean closer to him. Something you know gets him all twisted up around your finger, and you are willing to do anything you decide. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he reasons, but the grin is already playing on his lips and light chuckles ripple through him as your lips grow closer and closer until you're hovering over his.

"Fine," you decide, shocking him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm cold," you declare. You cuddle closer to him all pouty. It's the way you've been as of late whether the cold of winter or your hormones. "Let's go baby shopping."

"Baby shopping?"

"Yeah, we haven't really done it yet and we could look for cute itty bitty baby clothes," you reason.

The baby is new. Or rather the pregnancy. It's the reason for dinner with his parents. It wasn't planned but it wasn't unplanned. You'd been together for years, married for two, and, well, you, him, and baby makes three.

You found out a couple of weeks ago. It's changed things for him with the whole caring thing. He's always cared, obviously, but now he finds himself interested in every little aspect of the pregnancy. He'd never thought he'd be that guy who reads the books and talks to your stomach (which you don't know about, he's too embarrassed to do it while you're awake), but things change and he'd never thought he'd be a father but here he is walking into a baby clothing store to buy clothes for his—well, your—baby.

He still hasn't processed the whole "baby" part of things. He knows there will be a baby but he can't yet imagine having the baby. You being pregnant doesn't even quite feel real yet. You're barely showing and he only feels it might be real when he talks to it. That feels weird to call it it. But he's tried calling it he or she but that's a mouthful. You don't like him calling it it so he started calling it names.

First, it was normal. "Mary," "John," "Elizabeth," "James," but you didn't like that either because the baby didn't have a name. The baby hasn't even developed that part of them yet. So, he calls it "tot," "bug," "pumpkin," and his personal favorite, "the fetus." You're not sure why but he makes him laugh. Maybe it's the boyish part of him that still thinks boobies are the coolest thing ever.

"Should we really buy clothes if we don't know the gender yet?" He asks as you search through the girlish items.

"A baby isn't modeling for the cover of Vogue. We just need to find an outfit to take the baby home in. A hat and a onesie." You pick up a cute pink one with little pink bows printed across it. "Look how cute and small this one is."

"What if it's a boy?"

You roll your eyes. "Real men wear pink, you know that better than anyone."

He chuckles. "Touché."

You point the onesie back and state, "Besides, we're probably going to have a girl anyway. My family is filled with girls."

"Well, my family has guys," Alex points out.

"What? You?" You laugh at him. "Yes, statistically your parents did have 100% guys."

"Shut up," he mutters as he comes closer and lands a kiss on you. There are the moments that count, that are embedded and embossed deep into his mind. They are small but mighty. It's right up there with shopping for a new shower curtain. It's stupid but it's real. Arguing over whether it should be flowers or ducks (he really wanted the ducks for some reason). You compromised with polka dots, not that that part matters much. It was more doing it with you. He doesn't know why other than it's fun and he loves you.

You move further down the aisle, looking through bees, princesses, and truck designs. "The baby will be born in August. What screams August to you?"

"Sweat," he replies.

"Be serious," you urge him, your eyes staring strongly at him. He can feel the pupil blaze through him like a laser.

"I am," he says, "I think of sweating, the heat, sun."

"Aw," you coo as a smile grows on your lips. "Cute little suns and if we have a son then it'll be like son and sun. Get it?"

He smiles down at you, struggling to process all of this. "Yeah, I get it." A son, a daughter, a child. It knocks him off his feet. He gets hit with these waves. It's nerves but it's also excitement. The idea that a baby will be in that small onesie. A part of him will be in the world, running off, getting into nonsense. He has a few years until that. Hopefully, he'll catch up by then.

You buy the onesie with suns on it and leave after that. There will be plenty of time to spend plenty more money at the store but for now, you head to the bookstore next door. It's small with aching floors and dusty shelves. You're just trying to kill time until dinner and this seems like a good place to start.

You drag him by hand to the children's book section because despite it being another few years until the baby can read, but you like the idea of reading to the baby every night, even if they can't understand a word of what you're saying. Between Madeline and The Giving Tree, you say, "You know, these are the last couple of months of our lives, it'll be just the two of us."

He picks up Curious George, distracting himself by looking through the pictures. "You say that like you want me to panic."

"No," you assure him, placing your hands on his shoulder, giving them a squeeze. "This is such a special time in our lives. We'll never experience something like this again. Shopping for our baby, nervous, scared, anxious, happy, excited. And I get to do it all with you."

He shakes his head and puts Curious George back on the shelf, turning to you. "You really have a gift."

"What?" You ask eagerly.

Alex takes your hands off his shoulders and squeezes them. "Nothing. You just always know how to make me feel better."

"I know it's hard for you to believe but it goes both ways. I'm panicking too, you know? I have to push a whole human being out of me."

"I know. How selfish am I to be the one who's scared."

"No. It's perfectly reasonable. It's a life-changing thing that'll cry, poop, pee, and spit all over you. I guess, I just take comfort in knowing I have you to hold my hand."

He takes a deep breath and tries to let the stress go. "You're going make me cry next to Harold and the Purple Crayon."

"Well, this is my way of guilting you into changing all the diapers so it works out pretty good."

Alex then gets carried away by a Batman Lego set and despite the knowledge that it can't be anywhere near a child until it's no longer a choking hazard. Perhaps, it's more for Alex than the baby. He doesn't get it because he doesn't want to carry it around for the rest of the day but he's not saying he won't come back for it.

You leave with Harold and the Purple Crayon for memory's sake. The rain has stopped but the wind is still cold and the pavement is soaked wet with puddles. You huddle close together once again.

Alex asks, "Are you cool with the whole giving birth thing?"

You laugh at him. "I don't have much of a choice. Why? Do you want to try?"

"If I could, I would."

"No, you wouldn't, but I appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it's kind of cool. A special thing that only I get to experience. I mean, the thing is growing in me, that's crazy but cool."

"Yeah, the tot is a part of you."

You hum. "I want french fries."

He smiles. "Okay. I could go for a burger."

Fast food being on every corner does have its conveniences. McDonald's is warm, separating you from the world's chill. "My mother had short labours. How long was your mother in labour for?"

"I don't know. You can ask her at dinner."

"I'm definitely getting an epidural. I don't care if it slows the process down. You know I'm in pain from just a headache. I wouldn't survive natural labour."

"Good thing for modern medicine."

"If it was the 1800s you could just give me a bunch of morphine and knock me out."

"I'll tell them to have some ready for you."

You sit in a booth that is mildly sticky but he'll ignore it if it'll ease your feet. He bought the large fries with the intention of it being shared between the two of you but instead, you take it for yourself. He enjoys his burger.

"We should have gotten a Happy Meal," you joke, dipping the fry into the ketchup pile.

He smiles because despite being freaked out 99% of the time, the 1%—the idea of doing things like this, buying a Happy Meal for his kid—outweighs it all. "Yeah, would've gotten a cool toy too."

"Well, as long as you eat your apple slices." You smile up at him and he blushes. He's been with you for so long and yet he still gets flushed under your gaze, lost in your eyes, falling in love over and over again. It's cheesy and cliche, but that doesn't make it untrue.

He steals a fry away and asks, "What should we name the tot?"

You shake your head. "No clue. Is it weird that that is what terrifies me the most?"

"No, they're going to carry it around with them for their whole life. It's the first major life decision we’ll make for them. Well, after, you know, making them."

You giggle at him with a mouthful of fries. "Yeah. If it's a boy should we name it after you?"

"God no." There doesn't need to be another Alex Turner in the world. That would make things far too confusing.

"What about for a middle name?"

"Nah, the kid is already getting my last name."

"Should we go away? Like a babymoon or whatever it's called?" You ask.

"Sure, if it's anything like our honeymoon." You went to Bora Bora. You didn't see much of Bora Bora. It was your hotel and the water pretty much of which Alex insisted on giving an equal show of things, which you'd be mildly embarrassed by if you weren't so turned on by it. Besides, you came back with no tan lines.

"Shut up," you wish upon him.

He laughs because he really is just a teenage boy who still finds sex to be funny. But it's a lovely sight to see with the crinkle by his eyes and the smile lines forming. You always like him like this. He can be moody and pensive a lot of the time. When he laughs, it feels like he fully lets go, if only for a moment.

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"A cottage in the woods or something. I don't know. I might be too pregnant to fly by the time we do it."

"You're going to be so cute with a belly."

"Please don't turn into some pregnancy fetishist, Alex," you warn him.

And, no, he won't be going up to pregnant women on the street and asking to touch their bellies but there is something inherently attractive about you being pregnant. It's probably some biological design.

"I can't help it if I want to fuck you."

"Alex!" You scold looking around the McDonald's in shame. Much wilder things have been said in places like this but you still turn red whenever he gets suggestive, especially in this vulgar way like some need has overtaken him and he needs to have you right now. Like he'll take you on the red paint-chipped table.

He chuckles and bites into his burger. So nonchalant in every way like nothing affects him. It's easy for him to be casual about these things. He's pretty sure a corner of his brain is thinking about things like that all the time. He's pretty sure he thinks of your boobs every night before bed and wakes up thinking about your ass. Again, he's pretty sure it's that inherent biological man thing.

"In a couple of months, you'll be so pumped full of hormones you'll want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this place."

You reach across the table and start smacking him but he just laughs more and more, getting a real kick of this. "Will you shut up?" Truthfully, you kind of want to go jump his bones now.

a/n: sigh, just a little something for now. trying to write more but my finals have been a bitch. but winter break is soon...

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim

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a-couple-of-notes · 3 days ago

Note

What are your thoughts on poly coven and if you do have have any what would the dynamic be?

You folks really want that Agatha All Along fic about all the different dynamics, don't you? 😂😂😂 (Referencing this ask--although I suppose I have no way of knowing whether this is the same anon. Thank you for the ask regardless!)

I enjoy poly coven, although I haven't read much of it! In my mind, there are two general ways to approach this: one where Billy functions as their non-romantic glue (the Billy-has-seven-moms approach) and one (more interesting imo) where we nix Billy altogether and let it be a true dumpster fire.

Billy Has Seven Moms:

The single thing they all agree on (no one believes Agatha when she equivocates, and Rio doesn't snarl about it, which is as close to agreement as they'll get) is that the kid comes first.

Agatha and Jen both provide a practical kind of mentorship: technical magical study, potion-making, spells. They snark at each other during lessons ("What happened to 'presenting a united front'?" says Agatha) and if Jen doesn't back off, Alice, Billy, or Lilia step in to stop it from going all the way downhill. Agatha and Jen fuck it out later.

Lilia mentors Billy in history, tarot, and witch culture--all the soft skills that Agatha and Jen aren't proficient in. She enjoys the quiet respect that all of the coven, but especially Billy and Alice, holds for her. She and Alice trade off nights cooking; Lilia's go-to recipes are old Sicilian favorites.

Alice is Billy's Normal Stable Person (TM), a fact that at one point sends Alice into a panic spiral that Agatha and Jen have to drag her out of. She's the one Billy comes to when he needs someone who understands what it's like to be a kid on your own--when he's having a tough time with someone else in the coven, when he's feeling overwhelmed by the sheer number of mothers in his life. Alice teaches him guitar, and then, very hesitantly, protection spells passed down to her from Lorna.

Rio mopes around like a disgruntled housecat, never quite looking at Billy. The only time she does is when Billy announces he wants to make a Sharon Davis memorial garden. She doesn't help, of course, not in any way that Billy sees. But she does watch.

Of course, this well-oiled mentorship program works only as long as Billy is with them on the timeshare schedule. As soon as he's gone, it's like a ghost house with five roommates who hate each other's guts. If they still have separate places of residence, they all leave (except for the times when Jen is so annoyed with Agatha they bang first). If they actually do live in the same house, they all go into their separate rooms.

Then they seek each other out in pairs or trios, depending on what they want. Alice and Jen seek each other out when they want a normal date night; Rio seeks Lilia when she wants to talk shop about the old days; Agatha seeks Alice when it's been a hard day and she wants someone to be quiet about it. (Although let's be real: if Agatha's seeking someone out, it's also usually to fuck.)

Sometimes these pairs have a good time together; other times it turns into a fight that someone else cleans up. Lilia keeps count.

The only time the whole coven joins together sans Billy is when there's a threat. Usually to Agatha. Sometimes (futilely) to Rio. It always ends in massive property damage and murder, and there's an 80% chance the five of them have messy wow-we're-all-still-our-version-of-alive-sex afterward.

Agatha makes lots of divorce jokes.

No Billy, Just Chaos:

It's worse.

You know, I'm not even gonna bulletpoint this out because it's slowly growing into its own fic idea, but--in a poly coven where there's no Billy, everything happens a lot quicker and dirtier. (This is also because it veers wildly off-canon, and we're dealing with these characters before they've arced out. You know, the nasty, messy versions of them.)

Of course there's still got to be something forcing them together--soulmarks! Billy dies in episode 4 and leaves them in a crumbling Road illusion! The Salem Seven invade Westview and they all pick the same hiding spot!--but the thing keeping them together would not then be a kid. It would not be someone with a good heart they all care about. It would be one of Agatha's freakishly charismatic cons, utter fear, or a combination of both. Thus, everyone would spiral toward their most feral selves fast.

To wit: Jen and Agatha skip straight to the hate sex, Rio gets amused and jealous and jumps in. Alice, having no kid to protect, focuses her efforts on Lilia (the coven's elder) and Agatha (the coven's leader). This brings Alice directly into the snare that is Rio/Agatha/Jen, becoming--if we're being kind--their right hand and--if we're being truthful--their pet. Lilia considers herself above this weird fucked-up power tangle, but she and Rio have centuries of history, and Rio is almost as good as Agatha at annoying people into making bad decisions. It would be terrible. It would be glorious.

#agatha all along #agatha harkness #jennifer kale #alice wu gulliver #rio vidal #lilia calderu #ask #thanks for the ask anon!

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mischievouslittlecreature · 18 hours ago

Text

Part 22: This Misery We've Made

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: As Tommy and Lizzie's wedding day draws near, Lucy battles doubts and insecurities about their arrangement.

Word Count: 6,221

Notes: Warnings for depictions of smut, insecurity, and references to past torture and injuries.

Previous Chapter • Series • Fic • Next Chapter

Chapter 2: Say We'll Be Okay

When Polly walked unexpectedly through the door, Lucy briefly panicked, thinking that she’d forgotten about a meeting Tommy was supposed to have with his aunt and accidentally double booked him. But one quick glance at the diary on her desk proved that not to be the case. She frowned a little, a pulse of trepidation finding its way into her throat. Polly looked every bit like royalty, dressed in a lavish, deep purple coat embellished by a fur collar over an equally expensive blouse and skirt, a wide brimmed hat atop her head. She was growing her hair out from the short style she’d worn it in during the vendetta, the dark curls styled neatly around her chin.

“Polly,” Lucy greeted, sitting up straight. “Tommy’s in a meeting right now–”

“Actually, I’m here to see you.”

Lucy blinked, the uneasiness within her growing even more pronounced. She always got nervous when talking with Polly without Tommy present to serve as a buffer between them.

Polly’s dark eyes darted to where Adam was seated at the second desk in the office near the back.

“Adam,” Lucy said, getting the kid’s attention, “why don’t you take your lunch break a little early, today?”

He looked up from the speech he’d been editing, noticed Polly and the clear tension between them, and hastily put down his pen. “Are you sure, Lucy?”

“Yes, I’m sure. Go on.”

He got up and collected his hat and coat from the hooks by the wall, offering Polly a respectful nod and a soft “Mrs. Gray,” when he walked past her.

“He seems to be settling in well,” Polly remarked, sliding off her gloves.

“Yeah. He’s a good kid. What do you need?” Capping her pen, Lucy folded her hands in front of her on top of the papers she’d been looking over before Polly came in.

Removing her hat, Polly slid into one of the leather chairs across from her, meticulously crossing one leg over the other and laying her hat in her lap.

“Lizzie told me about the conditions you and Tommy put forth to her about the marriage.”

Lucy started to unconsciously fumble at the plain gold bands encircling her fingers. The wedding was in only a few short weeks, and to say that she was dreading it would be an understatement. Things had happened very quickly after the proposal.

“And?”

Polly lit one of her black cigarettes with the snap of a lighter, puffing on it greedily and eyeing Lucy with an obvious challenge in her dark eyes. “You really think that it’s a good idea for you and Tommy to keep up this…whatever it is that goes on between the two of you after he’s married?”

“We were still together after he married Grace–”

“That was different. He’s a politician now. His every move has the potential to invite scrutiny. If it gets out that he’s having an affair with his assistant, it could put his very position here in jeopardy.”

I know that. You think that I don’t fucking know that? Lucy swallowed hard, reaching for the cigarette case on her desk, pulling one out and lighting it, stalling to give herself time to think of a response, hoping that Polly wouldn't notice the slight way that her hands trembled.

“We know the risks. We’ll be careful.”

“You two have never been nearly as good at being subtle as you think you are.” She shook her head. “I thought that it was a bad idea, him choosing to bring you along with him here in the first place. Too many people in Birmingham already know you two are caught up in some sort of…entanglement. Rumors are already starting to circulate. You really think that they’ll stop just because he marries someone else?”

Lucy crossed one arm around herself, her elbow moving to rest on her wrist. Holding her cigarette close to her face, she used her thumb to brush a few stray red curls out of her eyes. She could barely meet Polly’s harsh gaze.

“Lucy,” placing her still smoking cigarette into the ashtray on the desk, Polly stood, planting both hands on the fine wood between them and leaning towards her, looming over her. For a moment fully encompassing the identity of the Shelby matriarch exerting her whole force of influence. “Being with you is not worth Tommy potentially losing everything he has worked so hard for.”

Hearing the words that had been circling over and over in her own head actually spoken aloud hit as hard as a slap would have. Lucy jerked sharply, cringing away in spite of herself. She stared at Polly destitutely.

“What would you have me do, Polly?”

Polly’s dark eyes softened a fraction when she recognized the sorrow on Lucy’s face. “I think you already know.”

“You really think that he would be unaffected if I just…left?”

“He’d get over it. In time. Especially with a new, beautiful wife and two perfect children at his side.”

A small sound emitted from Lucy’s throat. It would have hurt less if Polly had walked in, dumped a bucket of gasoline over her head, and set her on fire.

Sometimes, the only thing that kept her from packing a bag in the middle of the night and going to the train station was knowing how heartbroken Tommy would be if she left. The mental images of him with tears in his eyes, chasing after her train, screaming for her to come back, was more than enough to convince her to stay. Despite everything, she still could not bring herself to leave his side.

Who would take care of him, if she was gone? She certainly did not trust Polly to–at least not in the way that he really needed. Arthur, while his heart was in the right place, was too messed up to be of much help. Ada and Uncle Charlie could maybe both be of use, but they each had their own shit to deal with. They could not devote themselves entirely to Tommy in the way that Lucy did.

But maybe Lizzie could…

Lucy shuddered, fingers clenching hard around her cigarette in an attempt to ground herself. She loved Tommy. She wanted nothing but good things for him. She could not leave him if she thought that her departure would cause him unhappiness. But if she could be sure that he could find happiness with Lizzie, if she knew that she could trust Lizzie to take care of him the way that he needed…

Polly reached across the table, and touched her shoulder. It was only then that Lucy realized that a single tear had slid down her cheek, with more gleaming unshed within her eyes.

“I’m not trying to be cruel, dear. We’ve had our differences in the past, I know. I really am just looking out for the good of everyone.”

Lucy looked up at her, lips parted to speak, when the double doors leading into Tommy’s office opened. She hastily looked down and away, trying subtly to brush away the lone tear she had shed before Tommy stepped out with his colleague. He quirked a puzzled eyebrow at Polly’s presence, shaking the man’s hand and bidding him goodbye before turning to his aunt.

“Hello, Polly. What are you doing here?”

“I was in the city running some errands, so thought that I’d come by and say hello,” Polly smiled, chipper as a chipmunk that had just found a whole bushel of nuts to keep it happy and well fed the entire winter.

Tommy’s eyes went to Lucy’s, not entirely buying Polly’s story.

What happened? his expression asked, noticing something in her face. She just gave a miniscule shake of her head.

It’s fine.

He didn’t look wholly convinced, but caught on that now wasn’t a good time to pry further.

“Well, since you’re here, we can talk about the latest developments. Have you spoken with Michael lately?”

“Yes, actually,” Polly started to launch into a recount of her latest phone call with Michael while Tommy shepherded her into his office. He didn’t look to be entirely listening to her, instead shooting Lucy a concerned glance from over his shoulder. She offered him a weak smile that only made him look more worried, and before following Polly into his office he leaned forward, and pressed a firm kiss between her brows.

Whatever she said, don’t listen to it, his eyes told her. Lucy gave a tiny nod.

“Tommy?” Polly’s voice called from the office.

“Coming,” he sighed, but didn’t actually move until after he’d brushed the back of his hand affectionately down Lucy’s cheek with a small, comforting smile. Despite herself, she leaned into the touch desperately, closing her eyes while his thumb stroked her skin.

“I love you,” he mouthed to her when she finally met his gaze.

“Love you too,” she whispered hoarsely back, so quietly it was a wonder that he even heard her. With another gentle smile, he kissed the top of her head, ducking back into his office before Polly could shout for him again. He left the doors open, as if to let her know that she was more than welcome to join them at any time.

Lucy raised a fist to rest against her lips as she stared after him, heart aching, and Polly’s words swirling around inside her head.

∗ ∗ ∗

“Thank you again for the teddy bear. I swear that she hasn’t let it out of her grasp since I first gave it to her.”

Lucy smiled softly, leaning forward to watch Ruby play on the blanket Lizzie had set up for her in the sitting room. The aforementioned teddy bear was clutched in the baby’s arms, one of her chubby cheeks squished against it. Lucy was always buying her gifts. Tommy kept joking that she was going to spoil her, as if he were any better about not buying her anything and everything that he thought she might want.

That sweet girl deserved to be spoiled as much as possible.

“I’m glad.”

“Thanks for coming by and watching her. I swear, with Tilly on holiday I haven’t gotten even a second to myself.” Lizzie finally swooped in from the kitchen with two teacups for them. With all the wedding planning and then her nanny taking a week long holiday, she looked more than a little frazzled.

“It’s no problem. I’m always happy to spend time with her.”

Lizzie’s gaze softened, passing Lucy her teacup and sitting down beside her on the couch, putting her own cup down on the table so she could reach over to stroke her daughter’s cheek.

“Aren’t you excited, Ruby? We’ll be going to live with Daddy soon. You’ll get to see him allllll the time,” Lizzie cooed. The baby babbled excitedly and she giggled, leaning back. “God, she’s getting so big.”

Lucy nodded, remembering how fast Charlie had seemed to grow. “It always happens so fast.”

They both watched little Ruby play for a while, sipping on their tea in silence. Lucy knew that she needed to get going, but there was something that she needed to ask, before she did.

Mustering up her courage, she took a deep breath, setting her teacup back down into its saucer. “Lizzie?”

“Mhm?” her gaze did not leave Ruby.

“Are you sure that you’re alright with our…with our arrangement for after you're married?”

Lizzie glanced at her, eyebrow raised. “Yes, I’m sure.”

“Once it’s done, it won’t exactly be easy to back out of.”

“Yes, I know.” Lizzie splayed out her left hand, looking down at the glittering engagement ring on her finger. Lucy could only look at it for a moment before she had to glance away. “It’s all going to work itself out.”

Lucy examined her face closely. Something about the way that she said that last part had the fine hairs on the back of her arms standing on end.

“Lizzie…” she spoke as gently as she could, terrified of accidentally setting her off. “You can’t force someone to love you. I don’t want you to go into this expecting that once the marriage license is signed he’ll just–”

“I know,” Lizzie cut her off, but Lucy did not really think that she did. There was a distant look on her face, a dreaminess as if she were lost in a faraway fantasy. One in which Lucy was certain that she did not exist and Tommy was falling over himself to kiss Lizzie’s feet.

How many times had she attempted to get it through Lizzie’s head that she could not brute force Tommy into loving her the way that she wanted him to? Too many to count, at this point. There was not much more she could do but hope that Lizzie managed to figure it out for herself, and trust that she–like Tommy–could make her own decisions.

“Okay,” she murmured, even though she felt anything but.

∗ ∗ ∗

On the night before the wedding, it took nearly every ounce of willpower that Lucy had not to pack a bag and run far, far away.

She felt sick with anxiety and guilt. Like a huge stone had been lodged in her gut. Polly’s words played on a loop inside her head, and the look of quiet hopefulness in Lizzie’s eyes flashed before her every time she shut her eyes.

She had not mentioned the conversation she’d had with Polly to Tommy.

She knew that she probably should have, but she always hated it when he argued with any of his family because of her. So she kept her mouth shut, despite Polly’s words circling and festering in her mind.

Would it not be better for everyone if she left? Tommy would not have to juggle prioritizing her along with Lizzie and everyone else, Ruby and Charlie would have a stable, normal household to grow up in, and Lizzie could finally have a shot at actually living out the fantasy she’d been dreaming of for years and years. No one in the family outside of Tommy would even miss her, and he could easily find a new assistant to replace her. There were plenty of qualified people, even amongst just the Blinders.

“Lucy?”

She roused from her internal downward spiral at the sound of Tommy’s voice. He was standing in the middle of the bedroom, having already removed all his clothes save for his trousers, white button down shirt, and suspenders. He had his hands in his pockets, staring at her worriedly. When she looked up at him and he saw her face, he quickly came to sit beside her on the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asked, carefully draping an arm around her. She let him pull her into his side, head coming to rest against his shoulder.

“Mhm.”

“No, you’re not,” he argued back gently, lips finding the top of her head. “Worried about tomorrow?”

“Do you really think that this is a good idea?”

He frowned, confusion entering his eyes. “What? The wedding?”

She shook her head. “Us staying together.”

The confusion morphed into panic. “What do you mean?”

Lucy swiped at her nose with the back of her hand, aware that she was about two seconds away from starting to cry. It felt like ever since the vendetta ended, most of what she did was either cry or mope around feeling sorry for herself. He must be so tired of having to comfort her all the damn time.

Yet another thing to add to the list of improvements that her absence would bring: Tommy no longer would be burdened with having to take care of her.

“Having an affair after you get married is a huge risk, Tommy. If someone finds out about it…it could ruin everything.”

Tommy drew back slightly to stare at her. His brows were pulled in, lips turning downwards, his gaze apprehensive and hurt.

“Do you…” he swallowed hard, throat convulsing, and she realized that the question he was about to ask her was almost enough to bring him to tears. “Do you want to split up?”

“No. No; of course I don’t want to split up. I love you. But I don’t think that I could live with the guilt if I were the reason you lose everything you’ve worked so hard for.” She touched his face. “I don’t want to become a problem for you.”

His hand covered hers, squeezing against her knuckles. “You could never,” he said softly, leaning closer to bring their foreheads together. “It’ll be alright. We’ll be careful. Besides,” he angled his head to kiss her nose. “You think I’ll be the only MP having an affair? Most of them are sleeping with at least one other woman who’s not their wife. Hell, a lot of them have whole second families stashed away somewhere.”

He’d had her gather up dirt on a good many of his fellow MPs after he was elected. Just in case they ever needed to twist someone’s arm on something or ensure their silence on certain topics. She knew better than most the kinds of dirty secrets those men in their pompous, expensive suits and positions of power held close.

“Listen,” Tommy wetted his lips, sitting up and taking a hold of both her shoulders. “If you really don’t want me to marry Lizzie, I won’t.”

“No, it’s fine…”

“If me marrying her means that I can’t be with you, then I won’t do it. You’re too important. I can’t lose you.”

She leaned closer, until their foreheads were touching, her fingertips laying upon his cheeks. “You have me. This marriage is what’s for the best. For you and Ruby.”

“Your happiness matters too.”

She looked down with a sad smile. Sweet and gentle as his words were, they were hard to believe. Not when she’d put what was best for him over her being content every time.

“Hey, look at me,” he coaxed her chin back up with his hand. “It does. It does. Ey?” He cradled the side of her face, thumb stroking her cheekbone. “We’re going to be just fine. I’ll make sure of it.”

She nodded shakily, breaths stuttering with the emotion inside her chest.

“Come here,” he drew her closer, and she let her hands rest on his chest when he slanted his mouth over hers, kissing her in a way that was soft but impossibly deep, tongue stroking slowly into her mouth.

She kissed him back, eager for him to drive away the storm inside her and silence the cruel voices in her own head. With a soft sound of desperation, Tommy’s hands went to her shirt, fumbling with the buttons. Lucy’s fingers found their way into his hair while he abandoned her lips to instead pepper kisses down her neck. His large hands were warm even through the material of her clothes. With a soft whine, Lucy pressed herself closer, chasing the heat of his touch.

Soon as her shirt was fully open, he pushed it eagerly off of her shoulders, hands smoothing across her ribs. While he explored the newly exposed skin, she set to work getting him out of his own shirt, tossing the button down to join hers on the floor, then coaxing him to raise his arms enough so she could pull off the undershirt layered beneath. Tommy loosened the ties on her bra, pulling it away and almost immediately cupping both breasts in his hands, squeezing and massaging the globes of flesh, running his thumbs across her nipples until she trembled.

His mouth returned to hers, and as they kissed he got her out of her trousers and knickers and promptly manhandled her into his lap, an arm around her waist to help keep her balance. Their foreheads knocked clumsily against each other at their eagerness to steal more kisses, but neither seemed to care.

By this time tomorrow, he would be married. Lucy wondered if moments like these with him would become a rare occurrence. Ones that she would have to hold dear and make the most of whenever she got the chance.

As if reading her mind, Tommy pulled back just enough for their eyes to meet, thumb stroking her freckled cheek.

“I’m always going to be yours. No matter what,” he said resolutely.

Lucy felt a lump swell in her throat. “Don’t make me cry right now.”

His lips quirked up. “Sorry,” he kissed her again. “But I mean it.”

“I know. I know you do, love.” She found his lips once more, and he promptly banished any other thoughts of his impending nuptials with the opening of his mouth against hers, and the tender stroke of his hands down her back.

After what happened to her during the vendetta, her back was covered in a mass of crisscrossed scars. Tommy’s hands traced the shape of them, as he had dozens of times before with both his hands and lips. The skin was more sensitive since the injuries that left it so mangled, and he kept his touch light and careful.

Pressing down deeper into his lap, Lucy ground against the growing bulge in his trousers, earning herself a deep hiss. He tried to chase her when she drew back from their kisses, the small whine he released making her smile.

Giving him a small, teasing smirk, she slid her hands down his body to fumble with his belt, Tommy lifting his hips dutifully to allow her to easily pull his trousers and briefs down his legs.

His half hard cock sprang up, bobbing before her, and a low groan sounded from Tommy’s throat when she wrapped her hand around it, stroking him slowly to full hardness. As he swelled in her hand, she leaned forward to press kisses to his stomach, making her way lazily up his chest. Between her legs, her clit ached, her walls squeezing around nothing at the way his cock throbbed against her palm.

The arm Tommy had around her waist gave her a small squeeze, readjusting her in his lap so that she could straddle one of his thighs. She moaned softly into his chest when she pressed down, grinding eagerly. Tommy hissed through his teeth at how wet she already was, her slick soaking his leg whilst she humped him. Peering up and seeing a sudden opportunity in their current position, Lucy settled her unoccupied hand on his ribs, dipping her head to suck one of his nipples into her mouth. He let out a startled grunt at the action, hips bucking into her hand of their volition. Lucy giggled, circling her tongue around him and enjoying the way he shivered as she bit lightly at the hardened peak.

Letting him go with a small pop, she peered up at him innocently, probably looking far too pleased with herself at having caught him unawares. Tommy touched her cheek lightly, brows knitted in mock sternness that was greatly undercut by the sparkle in his eyes.

“What was that for, eh?”

She shrugged, trying–and failing–to contain her grin as she gazed up at him. Tommy’s eyes narrowed playfully.

“You trying to get me to punish you, hm?” his hand stroked her face, and when his thumb passed across her lips, she nipped at it, snickering when he snatched it away.

“Always.”

His cock twitched in her hand, and she raised an amused eyebrow at him, taking note of the reaction.

“Get over here then,” he grunted, both hands landing on her hips. She bit her lip around her smile, letting him pull her into position over his cock. “Ready?”

She nodded, and he kissed her cheek, slowly guiding her down onto him. They both moaned at the stretch as she slowly took him into her inch by thick inch.

“God, you’re always so tight,” burying his face in her neck, Tommy wrapped his arms around her. Lucy hummed, walls aching slightly at his considerable girth, giving herself a moment to adjust before she started to move.

Tommy’s moans were low, his eyes lidded heavily whilst he watched her begin to bounce on him, hands situating to help guide her movements, their pace starting out slow.

It was amazing how easily it was for her to realize just how silly she was being once his hands were on her. The way that he looked at her, with so much love and adoration brimming in his big blue eyes, was proof enough that he was just as unlikely as she was to be able to survive them being parted from each other.

When he was there to help ground her, it was easier to quiet her insecurities and trust that he would ensure everything turned out alright. He cherished their relationship as much as she did; surely he would do everything within his power to keep it safe.

It was when she was on her own, left with only her own thoughts to keep her company, without Tommy around to help balance out and quiet them, that she started to get into trouble. No matter how unreasonable and absurd she knew she was being, once she started to spiral, it was almost impossible for her to manage to stop it on her own.

They’d learned that the hard way, during the holiday they took right after the vendetta was over, when they both nearly lost themselves to their ravaged minds.

“Oh fuck, fuck. That feels good. Don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, Lucy,” Tommy groaned, eyes rolling in his head when she started to pick up the pace and swiveled her hips on him. His grip on her tightened, cheek resting against hers while his head tipped back.

“Close,” she warned, as if he couldn’t already tell from the way she was moaning into his neck, walls fluttering around him.

With a growl, his hips rolled up more vigorously into her, hand sneaking between their bodies to find her clit.

“Oh…” her eyes screwed shut, orgasm so close she could almost taste it. “Please, please…”

“Hm? Please, what, pretty girl?”

She sobbed at the low octave his voice had dipped into, hands scrambling at his powerful shoulders. Tommy chuckled.

“Can’t give you what you want if you won’t tell me, sweetheart.”

“H-harder…”

“Harder, eh? You mean like this?” Hand splaying out firmly at the small of her back to keep her from falling off, he started to snap his hips up with more force, adding more pressure to her clit as he did.

She could only answer with a moan, drawing scratch marks down his back. Tommy chuckled, the vibrations reverberating throughout his chest and rumbling pleasantly against her.

It took only a handful more thrusts, and a kiss to her temple, and she came hard. It sent explosive bursts of color flashing across her eyes, entire body tensing and relaxing simultaneously with the force of her orgasm. She held onto Tommy for dear life, and without even really thinking, so overcome with pleasure and affection for him, she bit into his shoulder.

Tommy let out a massive moan, eyes rolling at the sting of her teeth against his skin. And suddenly he was seizing her in his arms and rolling them. Her back hit the mattress, one of his strong palms cradling the back of her head and neck to protect them.

He practically loomed over her, something wild and animalistic awakened in his eyes. Lucy couldn’t quite stop the gasp that left her lips at how the sudden position change emphasized just how much bigger he was than her.

But it didn’t feel threatening. Not in the slightest. To her, Tommy would never truly seem scary or intimidating. When it came to her, he only ever offered protection and love.

Biting her lip, she stared at the center of his chest. She probably wouldn’t have been able to even recall her own name had someone asked. She was too encompassed by the feelings of being both incredibly protected and aroused.

With a growl that seemed to echo throughout the entire room, Tommy started thrusting into her wildly. Lucy gasped, wrapping her legs around his waist, pulling him in tighter against her.

“Fuck,” her eyes closed, head falling back as her hands moved from where they’d settled on his waist to instead smooth across his strong back, feeling the way his muscles clenched and shifted under his skin. Tommy chuckled when she reached down to briefly squeeze a handful of his ass, vibrations rumbling against her neck where his lips were pressing soft kisses and gentle nips.

She could feel that he was drawing nearer to his release, his breaths stuttering in his chest, hips driving into hers desperately. He was entering her at an angle that had his pubic bone grinding against her clit with each thrust, and it did not take long for her to be teetering on the edge as well, walls starting to spasm around his twitching cock.

“Shit,” Tommy grunted, hands fisting in the bedsheets on either side of her head. “Lucy.” He said her name like it was the most precious thing in the entire world, and she felt tears burn at the edges of her eyes.

“Fill me up,” she half begged, head tipping back and eyes closing. Her second orgasm ripped through her with such ferocity that her legs twitched around Tommy’s waist, walls clamping down on him in a vice grip.

Tommy cried out, one hand scrambling to seize hold of hers, lacing their fingers together and squeezing as he spilled his seed inside her. His forehead landed to rest on her temple, breaths heaving in his chest, hips thrusting lazily to prolong their pleasures until both were utterly spent.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, Lucy stared up at the canopy covering the bed, Tommy’s weight comforting and heavy on top of her. He curled both arms underneath and around her, head turning to settle on her clavicle while his breathing returned to normal. She ran her fingers delicately through his soft dark hair, sighing when he pressed a delicate kiss to the hollow of her throat.

When he finally did decide to move, it was to merely pull his softening cock out of her and maneuver them to lay on their sides facing each other. He always did worry about squishing her when she was under him.

Lucy swallowed harshly when she looked into his eyes, his hand returning to its favorite pastime of stroking her face.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, tracing the shape of her lips. “I know that this whole thing is so fucking shitty for you, love.” The arm around her tightened, and he drew in a little closer to her. “Whatever you need from me to make it easier for you, please, just tell me. Don’t ever feel bad about it. You won’t be causing problems, or being selfish, I promise. I need to make sure that you’re okay.”

“Thank you,” she murmured, laying a hand on his waist, feeling his side expand with his breaths.

“I mean it, if you really don’t want me to do this…”

“So long as Lizzie continues to be alright with our arrangement, I think it’ll be fine. It’s just going to take some getting used to at first.”

“More for her than for you or me. Once the honeymoon is over, things will go mostly back to the way that they were before.”

“It still doesn’t seem fair to her.”

Tommy shrugged. “She agreed to it. And we’ve asked multiple times now if she’s still sure that she’s alright with the arrangement. She’s said yes every time.”

“She could still always change her mind.” The thought chilled Lucy to her core. What would they do if that happened? Tommy would be bound to her, unable to get away without creating an absolute shitshow. “Once the ink dries on that marriage license and the rings go on, she has you forever.”

“No, she doesn’t.” Tommy propped himself up slightly, brows pulling together. His hand reached out for her face, taking firm hold of her cheek, thumb drawing across her cheekbone. “She doesn’t own me. I can make my own choices. We have made it as clear as we can what she is getting herself into. If she does change her mind, as far as I’m concerned, that’s her problem. Not ours. She’ll have to decide if she can live with what she agreed to or not. Rings can be taken off, love. If they have to be.”

“We both know that it’s not that simple.”

“Hey,” his grip tightened, forcing her to meet his worried eyes. “It doesn’t have to be forever.”

Face creasing in confusion, she searched his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Tongue darting out to wet his lips, Tommy swallowed. “Well, after I retire from politics, or after Ruby comes of age, or when society becomes more accepting about things like divorce–”

She gaped at him. “You can’t possibly be serious.”

“Why not?”

“So, what? You just divorce her when the time is right?”

“Yes.”

“And then what?”

He shrugged. “And then…you and I could get married, if that’s what you wanted,” her heart did a little swoop. “Or we could carry on as we have before. Whatever you want.”

“If you wait until Ruby is of age, that’s almost twenty years,” she frowned, suddenly deeply aware of her own thirty-three years. “You aren’t gonna want me anymore when I’m all old and wrinkly.”

“I’ll always want you.”

“You make it really hard to argue with you when you’re being so bloody charming.”

He grinned, thumb running along her cheekbone. “Sorry,” he said, though he very obviously was not. He took hold of her face with both hands. “I know how bloody selfish it is to ask you to wait for me–”

“I’ll wait,” she said, without hesitation. His gaze softened, leaning down to kiss her deeply in gratitude.

“Thank you,” he dropped his face to peck her bare shoulder. “It isn’t forever. Remember that. And if we need to end it prematurely–if you need me to end it prematurely–even if the timing isn’t ideal, I’ll do it. Just say that word.” Leaning back, he cocked his head, suddenly very serious. “She doesn’t have me. You have me. Always.”

She started to sniffle. “I told you not to make me cry.”

He stroked away her tears and then engulfed her in a tight hug, her cheek squishing into his chest. “Sorry,” he said again, this time much more genuine. She shook her head against his apology, burrowing closer.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Lucy.” His cheek adjusted against her head. “Promise you will tell me if you’re having trouble in here,” he tapped the crown of her head and stroked her curls, pressing a kiss to her temple. “I don’t like the thought of you suffering in silence when I could help.”

“I don’t want to be all clingy and cause you more problems—“

“You and your needs are never a problem,” he leaned back, a smile twitching at the corners of his lips. “And maybe I like you clingy.”

She snorted quietly at that. “It’s going to be hard to be away from you for so long.” The honeymoon was only planned to last a week, but it was easily the longest they’d ever been away from each other.

Tommy let out a pained sound. “I really don’t want to go.”

She touched his jaw, trying to soothe him. “You might have fun…”

“She’s making us go to fucking Paris, Lucy.”

“I know,” she said softly. Her eyebrows had nearly risen all the way up to her hairline when Lizzie had announced Paris as the location she wanted them to honeymoon in. It made her wonder how Lizzie could claim that she knew Tommy at all, when she couldn’t even seem to understand why he might not be particularly thrilled to go anywhere located in France. “It’s just for a week,” she tried to convince herself as much as him.

“We can talk on the phone.”

“Oh, she’ll love that.”

He shrugged. “That’s the price she pays for not wanting you to come.”

“Mm,” Lucy hummed, touching his face affectionately. Silence fell over them, just staring into each other’s eyes, caressing the other’s cheeks and jaws tenderly.

“You still have my soul, you know?” she remarked, voice seeming very quiet in the otherwise dark stillness of the room. The first gift she ever gave him, presented at their first official meeting, during the deal that began the merging of their two beings into one. Please, don’t throw it away.

Tommy’s hand took hold of one of hers, guiding it to press against his chest above his heart. “And you still have my heart.” Please, don’t break it, his eyes begged. Lucy swallowed at the memory of the night he offered it to her, as an equal trade for the soul she’d already relinquished to him.

He urged her face up to look at him, her wide green eyes meeting his icy blue ones. He kissed her softly, so much raw emotion packed into the brush of their lips that she nearly broke down into hysterical sobs right there in his arms.

“We’re going to be okay.”

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#tommy shelby #peaky blinders #my ocs #tommy shelby x oc #lucy winters #lucy winters x tommy shelby #lily writes #my fanfiction #love me where i'm most ruined

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tarithenurse · 2 days ago

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Just once more

Fandom: Spy x Family. Pairing/starring: Yor x Loid Forger. Word count: 650. Content: Pining, fluff. A/N: One of my best friends came with a suggestion...it was supposed to be smutty but it turned soft instead. Enjoy! As usual not betaed. If you want on my tag list just throw me an ask or a DM if you got questions about it.

Just once more

He’d kissed her (yes, on the lips). It’d been to keep the cover in front of her colleagues: he had to leave and so he kissed her. Lightly. Just a peck really. But for that brief instance, he knew he’d changed.

It’d felt like coming home.

It’d been all that existed for a second. Her surprised intake of air through the nose. The way her fingers curled around his shirt to tug him just a little bit closer. And the way her lips moulded to his, soft and pliable and all too tempting – he’d wanted to sweep his tongue out to taste her but instead he’d pulled back, sent her a smile and walked off like nothing was different.

Since then, he’d been lost.

His mind would stray to that moment unless he actively kept his focus on whatever he was doing. He’d been so good at compartmentalizing all his life but now...now that memory and the sight of her soft gaze afterwards would suffuse every single corner of his mind.

That’s why he’d made a plan: to kiss her again this evening.

His mission might sound simple, but he found himself confounded. None of them had talked about the kiss they’d shared and around Anya they both acted the same as always...but now that the little girl had been put to bed, Forger found that the mood had changed. It was like they kept bumping in to each other, kept nearly touching each others’ hands only to stop short. Averted gazes. Clipped sentences in rushed voices. It was killing him.

“Yor...” he sighs, not even meaning to say it out loud.

“Yes?” she puts her cup down and turns to him as they are sitting on the couch.

His mind chooses the safe route: “I owe you an apology,” he begins, causing her pretty face to scrunch up in confusion.

Pretty? When had it become more than just the face of the woman who pretended to be the mother of his pretend child? Was he going soft?

But he barrels on: “For what I did...the kiss when I left you with your friends.”

“Oh nononono!” She shakes her head vigorously. “No need to say sorry! It’s okay and it was good and they’d been doubting anyone would marry me so it was fine and they’re not really my friends and -”

She’s rambling and he can barely keep up with the stream of words but he does and he’s upset by what he hears. Frustrated. Saddened. Why would anyone doubt that she could find love? Why aren’t they her friends – does she have any friends? But then something else clicks in his brain. It was good. Was the kiss good?

Looking at her, he sees how flushed she is, how she averts his gaze. It wasn’t part of his plan to do it like this but as she keeps talking (he isn’t even hearing her words any more), his eyes are fixed on that perfect mouth and he reaches out a hand to cup her cheek, leaning in to kiss her again.

It shuts her up.

The same surprised intake of air through the nose but this time accompanied by a little sound from the back of her throat and his heart melts.

Deepening the kiss, he can feel her lean in. Her hands find his shoulders, holding on tightly as if she’s afraid to float away. When his tongue sweep past the seam of her lips, his entire body lights up at the sensation, the taste. Tea and biscuits.

They break apart a second or an eternity later. Struggling for air and not minding it at all as long as they still hold on to each other. He’s afraid to open his eyes and see her face...afraid to see that she might not approve.

But he does. And there’s the softest smile he’s ever seen.

And he’s home.

#spy x family #fanfiction #fanfic #loid forger #yor forger #loid x yor #agent twilight #thorn princess #writing #fluff #pining

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deathmybride · 12 hours ago

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*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ the earth from a distance | andrew hozier-byrne *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

ship: andrew hozier-byrne x fem!oc

warnings: references to death, alienation

summary: Gráinne moved to Dunbur to escape her past, to live quietly and write, and wallow in all the grief she had acquired. Andrew has other ideas…

word count: 3663

a/n: dedicated to my beloved @ath3nasgard3n who came with me to see bogfather in concert and held me while I SOBBED to Abstract (Psychopomp), even though she had never listened to hozier before that night.

Also, the setting for this fic is the Old Wicklow Head Lighthouse in Dunbur, which is now a BnB that you can stay in.

How to pronounce Gráinne and Máire

It began, as all good love stories should, with the death of a stranger. This time, it was the old lady who lived in the disused lighthouse by the battered shore, dying as the leaves turned to copper. I had lived in Dunbur for almost a year by that time, I never saw the heather part for any cars that might wind along the gravel path to the sea- but, then again, I was not watching for them. Either way, Lady, my poor MX5 was not built for such terrain and I could feel the scrub catching in sods under her chassis all the way down to the grass flat that had been designated as parking.

My gumboots squelched on the sopping turf as I hopped out, squinting at the pallid sun that tried so hard to reach me through the permanent duvet of cloud. It was a nice day by County Wicklow standards, no rain, minimal mist, and nearly, nearly sunny. The only reason to rug up was the damn wind billowing off the sea. I caught a gaggle of county gents eyeing Lady with appraisal while their wives loaded their cars with salvaged kitsch.

“She’s a beauty.” Mr Mulligan, the butcher- the most confident of the group- spoke up, peering out from beneath his tweed flat-cap with a face far too chipper for an estate sale.

“Ta.” I nod in thanks. “She’s old enough to order a pint.”

“What year?”

“‘99.”

“Ah, excellent year.” He said. I supposed it would be true if cars were like wine. “You’re a fine driver to get her up the back ass of nowhere, o’er all this shite.”

“Ta, just dumb luck, I reckon.” I moved to step away, but he cut in closer.

“We got ‘em lil’ cutlets in at the shop, I know they’re your favourite.”

“Ah, ya can’t fuckin’ get a word outta this one without him sellin’ ya some gobshite.” Mr Ronan, the newsagent spoke up with a roll of his eyes.

“Ahh, rev up ya bastard!” He aimed a light smack at his friend, and soon they were in playful fighting stances.

I took their rough-housing as my cue to retreat, finding their high spirits quite macabre and feeling grateful that the old lady’s family could not see them over the shallow rise.

The sale itself took place over the hillock and down in a scoop of grass a little ways away from the lighthouse. The townsfolk picked over fold-out camping tables laden with knickknacks and books, and a sparse supply of farm equipment and furniture on tarps nearby. I resolved to steer clear of there since Lady wasn’t known for her boot space, and I did not feel like calling in a favour from someone with an appropriate vehicle for the countryside. There was a dull hum of conversation hanging over the scene, and as I approached I must have murmured ‘hello’ and forced a smile for half a dozen of my regular customers. A few young men in black coats seemed to be dealing with the sales; grandsons of the deceased, I assumed.

I started with the books, finding a Folio Society copy of The Divine Comedy for a relative bargain,and- to my surprise- a few of Anne Rice’s Christian novels. I had little luck with anything else and was about to give up and go home, but something more caught my eye. It was a teddy bear with fur like lush, green grass. It had a curious face, with dark eyes and wide, brown nose that matched the brown on its paw-pads. Around its neck were four bells on a chain, each a different autumnal shade. Immediately taken by him, and spying a toddler staring at him with hungry eyes and grubby hands, I decided I couldn’t live without him and snaffled him up. The bells jingled pleasantly, and the fur was silky in my hands.

“Alright?” Someone sidled in beside me- Sue- the dumpy older woman who worked at the dingy smoke-and-gun shop down the street from the cafe where I worked.

“Hi.”

“Quer’n windy out, ain’t it?” Her eye contact was intense and probing.

“Aye.” I kept it brief. Once you got her talking, she wasn’t likely to stop.

“Cute.” She pointed to the bear, raising her brows. Her curiosity read phoney. “Bairns at home?”

“No. He’s for me.” I giggled in embarrassment, but she did not appear to be listening.

“Look at all this shite, would ya?” She picked up an admittedly hideous angelfish paperweight made of blue glass, sneering. “Hard to imagine such a proper woman would fill her gaff with this much cheap junk.”

“Mm.”

“You couldn’t move in that place for all the stuff.”

“You been in there, then?” Shit, she’s got me asking questions...

“Well,” She fiddled with her straw-blonde pageboy hair, suddenly self-conscious. “No, but you know that’s what its like, I mean look at it all.”

“Mmhm.”

“You know, I sold her fags.” She lifted her chin, prideful, yet almost disapproving. “Seven packs, each week on a Tuesday.”

“Maybe that’s what got her.”

I regretted the words as soon as they escaped my mouth, smiled tightly at her aghast expression and made a run for one of the young men dressed in black. This was a sad town, I reminded myself. A sad town, with sad gossip, and sad old ladies who die alone in bleak, majestic places full of items haunted by memory. What do I care if Sue starts spreading rumours?

The man served me quickly, seeming distracted. I wished him well and expressed sorrow for his loss. He thanked me in a robotic way, as if this were the hundredth time he was hearing those sentiments that day, and gave me a paper bag for my books. I took my cue to leave, hiking up over the rise to my car. As I went, my eyes strayed to the lighthouse. It burst up from the earth like the trunk of an enormous tree, though it lacked the natural curvature of wood, instead taking the form of an eight-sided prism. Ringed around the top was a deck with a railing just visible from such a distance. My feet slowed, suddenly intrigued by the memory held within the stones. I cast about a furtive glance. Nobody around, and all the patrons out of sight behind the slope. A closer look couldn’t hurt anyone, could it? Without another thought, I made a break for it, trying to walk swiftly without appearing to be hurrying in case the eyes I felt boring into me were not just a figment of my active imagination.

The gorse and heather grew all the way up to the base of the structure, which stretched high up above me in six tapering sections. I tilted my head back, I shielding my eyes against the glare. It was so tall, yet not even the domed top could scratch at the clouds. It was too windy to see the mist settle low enough to swallow the top, yet the idea of such a sight was glorious in my mind’s eye, like a tower from a fable. I wandered around the base, picking my way across the brush, until I came to the door. It was enormous and fortified, and appeared to be locked. I pushed on it hard, expecting nothing, but it swung in with a creak and a great feeling of resistance.

The surprise drew a gasp from my lips as I slipped inside. The inside seemed tiny in comparison, with low ceilings yellowed by years of indoor smoking. The inner walls were rounded, rough with crackled plaster and faded yellow wallpaper hanging off in sloughs. The air smelt of mildew and damp, and I noticed that the window at the rear was open in an attempt to flush out the smell. I crept over, laying my feet lightly. There was a book laying face down on the sill and a pair of reading glasses folded beside them. A chill ran over me at the realisation that these people may still be using this space.

Get out of here Gráinne, what the hell are you doing? I scolded myself internally as I abandoned my package of books and made a beeline for the stairs. You stupid woman, they’re gonna catch you! Sue’s probably told them all you spit on their grandmother’s memory by now!

The stairs ran openly up the walls of each floor, and I found myself gripping the iron railing as I climbed. They creaked and popped as they took my weight, the sound amplified by the empty stone interior. I saw that the second and third floors were as empty as the first, each showing signs of water damage and decay. The fourth floor was home to a frankly enormous four-poster bed that took up almost the whole room. The fifth floor appeared to be a bathroom, while the sixth was a kitchen. I was out of breath by the time I reached the top, and I had counted 109 steps from the ground floor.

As I bent over, holding my knees while I caught my breath, I noticed that in the corner there was a pull-down attic style door that hung open invitingly. It looked a tad rickety, and the fact that it was open at all should have read as suspicious, but the climb had taken a good five minutes and I’d be damned if I would leave without seeing the view from the very top. Gritting my teeth, I took the final climb, white-knuckling the rail as I popped my head out into the brightness. The wind howled against my ears, cutting through my beanie. I blinked my dry eyes against it, peering through my lashes and rubbing furiously against the sting.

“Hello, miss.”

Such a cheerful voice had never struck such terror in a person. A shock like falling galvanised my blood and before I had time to register what had happened, I had sprinted backwards down the stairs and stood frozen at the bottom. A beat passed, then he appeared, kneeling at the top of the trap door like a gargoyle: a young man with a soft face and a nest of dark hair poking out from beneath a knitted beanie. He seemed to be suppressing a smile, and when he spoke, it burst across his face with a giggly laugh.

“I see you down there.”

“Sorry!” I blurted out. “Sorry, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think-”

“Hey, hey, it’s alright.” He put a hand over his heart in an old-fashioned gesture of sincerity. “I didn’t mean to frighten ya.”

“N-no, I shouldn’t be up here anyway, I…”

“Well, strictly speaking, no you shouldn’t. But I left the door unlocked, and if it wasn’t you, it would be someone else.” He tilted his head, offering a kinder smile than I deserved. “You’re not in trouble.”

“I-” I took a deep breath, trying to swallow my stutter. “Thank you for… understanding.”

He shrugged.

“S’alright. People get curious. It’s not like there’s much left to steal, anyways. Unless you think you can get that bed frame down the stairs.”

“I-I don’t think I could, no.” A nervous giggle found its way into my voice.

“Alas, neither can the movers. She’s a beauty though, ain’t she? Though I think I’ll have to burn some sage before I sleep in it. I’m not the creepiest thing in this place, I’ll tell you what. Banshees and spooks in every corner.” He seemed amused at my wide-eyed confusion. “You may need to sage the bear too. I think I see Aunt Máire’s ghost peepin’ out through its beady eyes.”

“Right…” He raised an eyebrow as I held the bear close to my chest.

“Sorry, I’m just messin.’”

“I know.” I said quickly, taking a tentative step back, eyeing the stairs. “Well, I’m gonna…”

“What? You’re not coming up?”

“I-I shouldn’t. I’ve already basically broken in.”

“Nonsense.” He shook his head, his smile almost exasperated. “You’ve climbed all this way, surely come out and have a look. I don’t mind, I promise. I’m invitin’ ya.”

In that moment it occurred to me that this was a stranger- albeit a kindly and handsome one, but a stranger nonetheless- and we were in a very secluded spot. He could be anyone. He could want anything. I felt my phone pressing on my leg from my jeans pocket. He put his hand up in surrender.

“I won’t twist your arm about it, but the door is open if you like. I’ll let you get on, or would you like me to walk you back down?”

“No.” I left myself no more time to think on it. After all, it was the middle of the day, and the folk at the sale could see us standing by the railing. “I’ll come up. If you don’t mind.”

“Of course.”

He moved aside obligingly, offering a hand to help me up. It seemed rude not to accept such an offering, and I could not say I regretted it. His hands were huge and soft, his grip firm but gentle. He kept hold of me for a beat longer than he needed, meeting my gaze with eyes narrowed against the glare. He was gorgeous up close, with down turned moss-green eyes that resembled those of a creature far older than any human, half hidden beneath thick, dark lashes. He smiled as he stood up, and as my stare dropped to his cherub lips I noticed his close cropped beard was auburn in the watery sunlight. He rose up, and up, and up, and soon he was towering over me like a beech tree.

“Wow, you’re tall.” I had to shout over the roaring wind.

He laughed. A husky sound that made his shoulders shake.

“Aw, and you’re such a tiny ting, I feel like I owe you a couple inches.” Instantly, he blushed. “That’s not what I- uh- oh, forget it.”

He tore off his beanie and buried his face in it. Bubbling up from the depths of me, for reasons unknown, was some of my old sense of humour.

“Well, I wouldn’t say no…”

“Ugh, inappropriate, missy!” He swatted at me with his beanie, then sniffed in mock offence. “You don’t even know my name.”

“Hey! You’re the one who started on about all your inches…”

“And I do have a few.”

“See what I mean? Unbelievable.”

He rolled his eyes, then contained himself no longer and let loose his infectious laughter. Soon enough, I was in bits. When we could both hold a straight face, he leaned in and offered me a handshake.

“I’m Andrew, by the way.”

“Gráinne.”

“Gráinne” He leaned in as he spoke, the sound softening as it passed through his mouth. The ‘r’ rolled gently like the crest of a wave into the breathy final syllable, and the name I once found so masculine and harsh sounded like a prayer to my ears. “Borrowed name for an English girl.”

“Not borrowed,” I sniffed, suddenly protective of the name I once considered an unflattering mouthful, and embarrassed at my obvious lack of an accent. “I’m a quarter Irish on my father’s side, if you believe in splitting yourself into fractions. It’s my great grandmother’s name.”

“I apologise for my rudeness.” Again, he put his hand on his heart. I had to stand close to hear his soft tone as the gale whipped my face. “I was only surprised. Gráinne isn’t such a common name these days, which is a shame ‘cause I find it quite beautiful. Do you speak any Gaeilge?”

I shook my head, heat marring my cheeks.

“If you fancy learning, I’m your man. These courses…” He shook his head. “They teach you how to speak it, but they can’t help you with the feeling.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.” I would be lying to myself if I denied the thrill of excitement I felt at the prospect of getting to know him in some small way.

“I certainly hope so.” He took a step back and gestured broadly. “Such a view is surely incentive enough.”

I looked around, realising that in my fascination with this sprite of a man, I had failed to take in my surroundings. One one side, the prairie hills rolled gently out toward the horizon, marbled in a thousand shades of green, brown, bronze, even pink and yellow where the gorse and wildflowers grew dense through the grass. Clusters of trees and scrub broke up the smooth flow of the turf, crosshatched with paths carved out by hares and foxes. Further out, I saw a sparse gathering of cottages, and an ivory freckling of sheep over the surrounding hillside.

We wandered the circumference of the deck, looking down first upon the rows of reliable utes, and one fragile sports car; then, at the people milling around the tables like tiny crabs on a beached porpoise. Finally, we regarded the stark, white shape of the new lighthouse and control centre; unnatural, yet homely against the shore. Down there, the brilliant tapestry of colour gave way to grey stone that formed jutting structures along the shore, growing smaller and smaller until they reached the small stretch of beach that must have been made from gravel, or even coarse sand. The sea there was deep grey, roiling with pale breakers that threw up jets of foam as they crashed against the rocks. Above the water, yet still strangely beneath us, grey gulls wheeled on the wild wind. Their cries carried over the roar of the sea, reaching us on a breath of sharp, briny air. I inhaled deeply, feeling the spirit of this ancient place come into me, cold and fresh.

“It is… beautiful. Do you mean you’d teach me up here?”

“If it was a bit less windy, yeah.” He scrunched his nose. “Otherwise, I’m renovating the kitchen in the next few weeks. Once its done up and not so decrepit we could use that.”

“So, this really is your place, then?”

“Aye. And about a hundred acres worth of peninsula. The workers at the new lighthouse have right of way, of course, but whatever. It’s a good deal.”

“Wow,” I allowed myself an awed gasp. “You inherited all that?”

“Well, my cousins did.” He itched the back of his neck, as if about to confess to an embarrassing fact. “They were gonna put it on the market and split the money, so I said I’d buy it sight unseen if they come down to help me clear out all the stuff.”

“Wow. How can you afford all that as such a young age?”

“I’m older than I look.” He admitted with an awkward laugh. “But younger than my soul, ma says.”

“You’ve been here a few time before?”

“More’n a few, I’d wager.” He turned his glittering eyes to me. “You don’t seem new either. We’ve probably met before, once upon a time.”

“You’d think I’d remember someone like you.”

“Ah, I’d say the same about you.” I did not miss the redness on his cheeks. “Memory is a fickle thing. Anyway, I can afford this place because I lead a charmed life. I work hard, yeah, but luck has so much to do with it. You collect your share of four-leafed clovers growin’ up ‘round here.”

“You’re from Dunbur?”

“Newcastle, up the coast a ways.”

“I might have driven through on my way to Dublin.”

“Might’ve.” He checked his watch. “Sorry, I better get back to the vultures.”

He strode over to the stairwell, and I took it as my cue to follow.

“Oh, you can stay up there as long as you like.” He assured me. “Just make sure you lock the door on the way out.”

“Oh, no, I better go home myself. Dinner to cook, laundry to do…”

“It never ends, does it?”

“Mm-mm.”

We made our way down, moving quickly as he took two stairs at a time. He reached the ground before me, but I found him waiting for me with an amused look on his beautiful face and my book bag under his arm.

“Sorry, I forgot about your poor, tiny legs.”

“Rude.” I tried to take my bag from him, but he was already digging through it.

“What have we got in here… The Anne Rice novels, very nice, and oh! The Divine Comedy! Have you read it before?”

“No, never.”

“You’ve got to.” He handed it over with gravitas. “Do not let this gather dust. Read it, it’ll change your life.”

“I will.”

“Good.” He glanced over his shoulder as we stepped outside, pulling the enormous door closed behind him. “Alright, I’ve gotta run, but it’s been lovely to meet you.”

“You too.” I was about to let him go, but I wanted to see him for just a moment longer before he dissolved like mist. “Oh, Andrew?”

“Mm?”

“I’m… sorry, for your loss.”

“Thank you, but I never really knew her. She was the black sheep of the family, a title I’m happy to inherit. One day, I’ll tell you all about it.” Gently, he tapped my elbow with the back of his hand, a gesture that set my skin alight. “I’ll see ya round, Gráinne.”

“Bye.”

He waved as he left, the ever present smile still lingering on his lips. He turned to me again when he reached the crest of the hill and waved once more. I waved back, and when he disappeared over the rise, I bounded over to watch him walk away. One more time, he turned, as if he sensed me watching, and lifted his hand over his head.

“Gráinne.” I whispered, trying to match his lilting cadence. “Gráinne, Gráinne…”

I knew then that my name would never sound as sweet again, and wondered how much more exquisite it would be were it to pass from those budded lips in a sigh of bliss.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #unreal unearth #abstract psychopomp

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