#everything smells moldy

[rectangleshorts]

There is nothing I want more in this world, right now, than to not be somewhere with 90% humidity.

[iguinn]

why is this happening so close to the exams...

[femmeboyhooters]

Why does life ALWAYS have to be shit

[swagging-back-to]

realized why jasmines hospital cage smelled like an entire bucket of piss. bc i used it to clean the dirty wood stuff and plastic is very pourous

[apricot-blossomss]

I love your latest Apollo story! This line "Let's release her into no man's land, make sacrafices to Apollo to soothe him and hope for his mercy." give me an idea for a request. What about an actual sacrifice story where reader is offered to Apollo as an exchange for the reward as people have hoped, but he falls in love with her at the first sight and treasure her contrary to her expectations?

☛ mortal! fem! reader is sacrificed to apollo

☛ sfw, tw: disease/epidemic(the plague), threats of violence/death; this was such a fun request to write, thank you very much!

Two weeks. The plague had been raging in your city for two weeks, and it was on the brink of collapse. Bodies lined up on the sides of the streets, too many to bury, the cries and sighs of the dying to be heard from out of the houses. Louder than the weakened bawling of the sick were the screams of the relatives, losing loved ones, that cut through the horrid symphony of suffering.

Of course, you knew how precarious the situation was. You knew you had an obligation to your people after your father, the king that was supposed to protect them, had drowned them in such misery. He had insulted the god Apollo and now, innocents were dying in the hundreds for his blasphemy. When he had turned to the city's seer, the old man had prophecied that only one thing could save the city: sacrificing you to the god to appease him.

Other than your father, you were ready to give everything for your people, but the thought of your impending death made a cold wash over you, your heart squeezed in an unforgiving panic as tears ran down your cheeks. Without so much as a second thought, your father had ordered you to be locked in a cell until the sacrifice tomorrow morning. It hit you like a flash that it had to be morning already, you only had so little time left, and you were spending it chained like an animal in a cold, moldy dungeon, shivering in terror and crying cold tears over your fate.

Another tremble shook your body and you pressed it into the corner you were sitting in, longing for the smallest bit of comfort. Your stomach was empty, but you weren't hungry, you felt too sick. If only you could have spent your last night in your room with your pets and your instruments, where it was warm and bright and the memories of better times lingered. They hid under the covers, lurked behind the doors and would have brought you comfort. Instead, your end would be thoroughly miserable.

You had overheard what the soldiers had said. Chained up, you would be brought before the city gates to an altar, built quickly to serve its purpose, and an archer on top of the city walls would end your life for your sacrifice to be collected by the god. You sniffled and tried to think of something beautiful as your hand squeezed the place over your heart that would soon be pierced by the arrow. It was as if you could feel it already.

Eventually though, the despair in combination with your exhaustion must have overwhelmed you, because the next thing you knew was that two guards were waking you up, releasing your chains and guiding you up the stairs. Over the night, the cold had settled in your bones, but that wasn't the only reason your legs were wobbly and unstable as you ascended into the palace. Your father wasn't there, but that didn't surprise you. Only a group of scholars, magistrates and officials had gathered to lead the procession out of the city.

The moment you left the palace, still guarded, though you assumed it wasn't for your protection but rather your safekeeping, the horrible smell of rotting flesh and burning bodies hit you. If it hadn't been for your empty stomach, the urge to puke would have overwhelmed you. That would not have been a very graceful last walk. Looking forward, you saw that the people, sick and healthy, but all dirty and with grief written into the hollows of their eyes, had gathered along the sides of the road to watch the procession.

There was no music played, and the usual sound of screams and cries had given way to a haunting silence. Ignoring the piercing smell, you allowed yourself to bask in the bright sunlight for a moment, dwelling in the irony that it would be your downfall.

When you were almost by the city gates and your feet started to hurt, a commotion disrupted the eerily still crowd of onlookers and the procession halted, guards stepping forward to protect it. An elderly woman broke free from the assembly. Her thin hair, sickly complexion and buboes on her face and neck left no doubt that she was very sick. When she called out, her voice was but a rasp. "Princess!"

Surprisingly, the guards didn't stop you when you stepped forward, towards the woman. Though you could see why. Even if you got infested, it wouldn't matter, your life would end before the sun had risen to its peak. Unable to stabilize herself, the woman had fallen to her knees and you crouched down to her. A stifled gasp erupted from the crowd when you placed your hand on her shoulder. "It'll be alright," you said, not knowing where you got the sudden calmness. "It's all going to be over soon."

"Thank you," the woman sobbed, cradling your hand as dirty tears got caught up in the deep wrinkles of her face. "Thank you for your sacrifice, princess." Two young women stepped forward and helped her up as the guards took you between themselves once more, and as the procession moved forward, you felt strengthened. That was right. What did your life matter if you could save the lives of thousands?

Only the guards proceeded with you once you reached the gate. You took a nervous look upwards that made fear jolt through you once more. The archer was already in place. The archer that would seal your fate once you were displayed upon the altar.

The alter itself was a few hundred steps from the walls, a quick construction for this purpose only. The guards chained you onto it, so that you were displayed upon it like a sacrificial lamb. How fitting. When they left, you could barely sit up enough that your back didn't bow under the metal pressure, but you wanted to die with dignity. That was why you stricktly forbade yourself to cry, but you couldn't stop the trembling of your body and the racing of your heart, it's beat drumming in your ears, running in its last moments to its inevitable end.

Shivering and heaving, you awaited the arrow. This was so much worse than if they had killed you right away. It was torture not to see it coming. Managing a quick look back at the city gates, you saw the archer draw his bow. Despite yourself, a fearful sob left your throat and you closed your eyes, waiting. Almost anticipating. Any second now. The darkness was comforting.

The touch on your chin made you jolt. There was a hand, gently lifting your chin. Was it Thanatos, death itself? Death had an unexpectedly gentle touch.

"Open your eyes."

Without thinking, you did and froze. Your heart, that had been beating as fast as a dragon-flies' wings, halted for just a second. A breathless second, because in front of you stood the most beautiful creature you had ever seen. He was no man, he couldn't be. Emitting an otherworldly glow, his hair seemed to be woven out of gold, his skin as spotless as marble and his eyes a golden color. No, he was no man. The bow draped over it's shoulder, with which he had unleashed despair onto your city, sealed the deal. It was the mighty god Apollo himself.

You couldn't read his expression, but it was neither happy nor angry. He didn't present himself as a vengeful, destructive force of divinity, yet his might you could feel in every fiber of your being. His touch on your skin burned, as if you were too close to his godliness. Only now you followed his other arm with your eyes, that was stretched behind you, and gasped. It held the arrow meant for you, as if he had grabbed it out of the air right before it would have hit your body.

His surprisingly soft fingers tilted your chin further upwards, not meeting any resistance. Your body surrendered to his touch automatically. Golden eyes studied your features with such interest that it made you sweat. The weight of his godly eyes on you was almost painful. With a courage you didn't know you had in you, you looked up, right into those hard, unforgiving eyes. They widened slightly as you did and the god tilted his head. When he spoke, his voice shook you to your core.

"Who are you?"

Too caught up in the melody of his smooth voice, the grave sound of centuries and eternities, you almost missed the question. For a second, you contemplated wether you should tell him, but you didn't see what use there was in lying. And you knew you couldn't lie to him. It was time to meet your purpose.

"I am the eldest daughter of the king that offended you, and who's city is suffering the hail of your arrows, Lord Apollo. I am a sacrifice to you. Please-," your voice broke, but you forbade yourself to cry. "Take me, let me die for my city and have mercy on my people." You could have cursed yourself for the way your lip was trembling, and you added a choked "if it pleases you."

They had chained you down like an animal. Apollo knew that the king was a scumbag, but so much of a scumbag that he would leave his daughter to die without a second thought. The audacity to think that he would be satisfied with this, that he would be granted mercy. And such a pretty little thing you were, too. And obviously way more interested in your people than their king.

All you could hear was your heaving breath as you averted your eyes. His hand left your chin and when he lifted it, you ducked under the impending hit, but it didn't come. When you looked up carefully, he had only placed his hand on the altar next to you. Still, his golden eyes studied your face, though you thought that they looked just a little softer than before. His other hand dropped the arrow and came up to your face to brush strands of hair behind your ear. "What is your name?"

You told him, but he showed no reaction. Were you not enough to satisfy his vengeance? "Please," you begged, "accept me as sacrifice and forgive my father's sins."

The god only scoffed. "Who had that idea? What moron prompted you to be sent out here?" Again, you told him of the seer and his prophecy, shaking under the weight of the chains and your fear. "So, he told your father he would be forgiven if he sacrifices you to me?" the god said. "How could such an error happen to him? He is a very skilled seer." He wasn't talking to you but to himself, glaring at your city in the distance. The waves of his godly anger rolled off of him and left you breathless. You cursed yourself. Was this all you could do? Shiver, die, cover?

The god let out a sigh that sounded like a tragic tune. Such grace, even in the most minor of his mannerisms. He spared another glance at you and again, you felt like blinded by the sun itself. "How would you like a new home, Princess?" there was a scornful tone to his voice when talking about your former home. His lips twitched in mocking amusement. "The old one produces such horrid smells."

You felt your chest constrict with a sudden surge of anger. "And who's fault is that?"

Oh gods.

You had not just said that. What had you been thinking? You didn't dare to breathe as both you and him were, for a moment, stunned by your words. Because you didn't want to see the extent of his eternal anger at your defiance, you chose to look on the ground, expecting the death blow any moment now. But no, he would not make it quick for you, not when you had shown such impudence. Would it be a torturous death? But if it was already set in stone...

You didn't know what prompted you to look up again, but you did, and found him with a stunned expression only making his features prettier. "You hold a grudge against my father because of his blasphemy, fine. Give him the torturous death he deserves. But if you think bodies thrown in the sewers for the rats to eat because there is not enough wood to burn them would touch my father, you are wrong. But it does touch me, and I care about my people. You can do whatever you want to me, and I know you will, but I am begging you to end this punishment!"

You were fierce. Apollo was stunned by your bravery, not many had ever dared to talk to him like that. His sister would like you. There was such clear directness in your words, he could tell you were intelligent, smarter than your father, and you could articulate it even under godly scrutiny. You were interesting. And even more pretty glaring at him. Something tingled inside him, as if you had touched a nerve, but a good one.

"Heh"

It was a slight sound, almost swallowed up by the wind, but it made you look up in disbelief. But it was true. The smile on Apollo's features stunned you, he was too beautiful to be beheld by mortal eyes like yours. Your amazement by his grin almost washed away your confusion about his amusement. Why was he smiling? Why weren't you dead yet?

You flinched away when his hand touched your waist, but you were surprised by how gentle it was. It wrapped around the chains that tied down your whole body and dug painfully into your flesh and they dissipated. A wave of his hand and the bruises that had formed under their pressure healed in front of your eyes. "Hm," he hummed and you looked back at him. "Such a shame, those bindings taking up the view."

"Uh," was all you could say, still half lying on the altar. His smile widened, but it was not malicious. No, it was ... charming. Flirty. Stunningly beautiful.

"Tell me, pretty lady, do you sing?" he asked, leaning on the altar with his two arms caging you in as he leaned towards you. He was so close you could feel it radiating off of him. It felt like heat, only that it buzzed that air in a way that made your lungs constrict. Pure power.

"Ye- I mean, a little," you said, trying to follow his sudden mood shift. "Why?" Because boldness had been the most effective diplomatic tactic so far, and because you felt the strong urge to say it, you added: "Do you want me to sing for you?"

His eyes gleamed with... something. Now, he was truly shining. "Yeah, real interesting," he smiled, leaning even closer. Your heart was racing. "How about I rephrase my previous question, darling. You can either go back to your city and your father, or you can come with me. Your choice. Either way, your city will be forgiven and have peace."

The proposal knocked the breath out of your lungs and the flirtatious smile on his face didn't make it any better. You looked back at your city. Back to your father, who was so willing to sacrifice your life for his, who hadn't even had the decency to see you one last time before sending you out to die, alone and scared, paying for his mistakes. There was nothing there for you, but something was pulling you to the man in front of you that you couldn't quite explain.

"I want to leave with you," you said, surprised by the firmness of your voice. And even more surprised at the way he lit up, emitting a soft golden glow. The stone cold gold of his eyes had melted into warm honey as his arms sneaked under your body and lifted you up. You couldn't help but smile back, as if you were out of control of your face muscles.

"That little smile of yours is almost as irresistible as mine," the god grinned down at you and you felt yourself blush, slapping his chest out of embarrassment as you would have done any man's. For a moment, you were mortified by your own actions, but it turned into relief the next moment because Apollo let out a hearty laugh. A little chuckle left your own lips and for a second, his eyes lingered on them.

The next, he was shielding your eyes with his hand and you could only hear and feel him all around you now. "You might want to close your eyes for a bit. It might get bright."

As you did, he removed the hand, held you gently and looked down upon your face as a hail of golden light engulfed the two of you. Your fingers dug into his tunic but he couldn't have minded it any less. There was something about you that fascinated him. You were interesting, and the god liked interesting people. Eyes still closed, one of your hands found his and squeezed, and he was glad your eyes were closed, or you would haves even the bright pink blush on his marble cheeks.

Yeah, real interesting.

[doki-doki-imagines]

You hate running. It makes you sweaty and it takes nothing for you to stink, showing to the world your sigma scent that you try so hard to hide.

“Please, come over.” It’s the message that sent you in such an anxious state that everything you hated held no value anymore.

Your relationship with Michael is peculiar. You aren’t exactly lovers, not fuckbuddies but also not romantically involved. You just help each other.

Michael Kaiser, a future football star, presented himself as an omega at a young age, and as quickly he started to take suppressants since his career is strictly for alphas and to the utmost for betas.

“Yeah, they say that anybody can aspire to this career, but it’s all bullshit-“ He spat out at the time, blonde strands covering his eyes “Omega are treated like shit, always benched and used as lockers room whores, you stand no chance.”

Michael hates alphas, he hates betas, he hates everybody that believes to be better just because their secondary gender is stronger than his.

That’s why he trusts you. A sigma, owner of a scent that can calm him down, but without the strength to overpower him. But he doesn’t trust you enough to deal with his heats, and you never dig further, more than happy to leave him his space.

That’s why the message gave you immediately a dry throat and sent your heartbeat into a frenzy. You know that this week he has a heat, you know how much he hates to look weak.

If he messaged you the situation must be desperate. And as much as you like to think you are a rational person, saying you don’t have feelings for Michael would be a plain lie. There is fondness when you caress Michael, you search for his approval, for the kind words that blossom from his throat only in his weakest moments.

But you aren’t dumb, knowing perfectly that your feelings aren’t one-sided, that his blue eyes search for your figure when he thinks you aren’t looking, and you notice the sparkles in his irises when you let him vent, confide; sky blue sparkles reserved just for you.

“Michael, where are you?“ You are finally inside the house, he gifted you a spare key not so long ago. The room is spare, but his smell is so strong you almost lose your footing. It pulls you down and makes your stomach churn. Usually, you couldn’t smell anything thanks to the suppressant Michael takes, so you weren’t used to such a strong odor.

It’s strong and unpleasant, the kind of smell you’d feel around trash bins, however, it feels so much like Michael that you can feel your heart pounding in your ears.

Your Michael needs you. Thighs squeeze, already feeling wetness pooling in your panties. You are ashamed of yourself, such a strong reaction and you aren’t even close to his body.

When you reach his bedroom you choke on your saliva, dizziness overcomes your body, therefore you lean on the door before taking the last step.

“Michael!” You open up ready to run to him, but you have to stop at the sight in front of you.

The blonde omega is on the ground, back lying on the ground, in between an old and moldy cover dripping with his sweat. There is half-eaten food around him, old and dirty clothes as an undone nest. His room is filled with trash.

“Ngh.You are-ah!” He looks at you, his pupils so dilatated you almost can’t see anymore his blue irises. Blonde and blue strands are stuck on his sweaty face, moans and sighs keep flowing from his mouth, while his naked body twitches pitifully.

“Michael, baby come here.” You kneel on the ground, and shivers start to run down your body, both because of his heat affecting you and because of disgust, a liquid from a tin can on the floor dirtying your pants.

His hands find immediately the end of your shirt, pulling it up. Whines keep flowing from his mouth, fingers frantically working to push away the clothes separating him from your bare skin.

“Ngh. Want you-“ Rough fingers push down your bra, just enough for his mouth to latch on your nipple. His tattooed hand keeps pawning at your waist, inching closer to your pants.

Your hand goes to the back of his head, supporting him in the uncomfortable position. You scratch and tug the sensitive skin, muscle memory of what you know he loves, while your other hand slides down his sweaty body, caressing his hard muscles and soon tracing the line down his abs to reach the blonde bush leading to where he really needs you.

“Please, agh-” His eyes shut close, a lonely tear runs down his porcelain skin when you start to massage his hard member. His tip is already red and leaking, so you don’t need more lube to slide up and down his shaft.

“Ngh-ah. I want more.” He mumbles into your chest, your nipple abused by his greedy mouth.

“So you remember how to speak, mh?” You twist your wrist on his tip, feeling his muscles twitch under you. “Where is your toy?” You whisper, so near his red lips, begging for your attention.

“On your righ-gh” He gasps into your neck, his hips twitching while his nose nuzzles the crook of your neck, where your sigma smell is the strongest.

You look around, your hands still caressing his cock. There is so much trash you have to stop scratching the back of his head to start rummaging around.

Luckily you found it quickly, just under a sheet full of holes totally stiff from being used that much. It’s pink, almost fuchsia, but it’s not particularly long or wide, you guess it has the standard dimensions. It’s the knot at the base that takes the spotlight: it’s engorged and you know how strong it vibrates, abusing that little bundle of nerves that makes Michael’s eyes roll in the back of his eyelids.

You are a little too lost in looking at the toy that you don’t notice how the man under you unzipped your pants, his red and swollen lips now mouthing on your cotton panties, blue irises looking at you, almost begging for a crumb of your attention.

“Want you- want” A sigh leaves his mouth, together with a shiver strong enough to make his back arch like a bow. “Feel good- you too” He moans, head brushing on your lap, making his hair even messier, between the blonde strands sticking to his forehead and the others flying freely around your lap.

“If you want it so much, show me.” You pull him away, eliciting a groan of displeasure. Your legs are now wide open, jeans already unbuttoned. You remove your cotton shirt together with the bra, feeling your body on fire.

The blonde sits on his knees now, his sweaty skin shines under the light of the small lamp, abs look like carved out of marble.

“You and your damn- agh, tight-fitting jeans.” His blonde eyebrows scrunched, focused on pulling off the blue garment.

You snicker at his comment, his smell affecting you, but not enough to make you delirious.

“Fuck you-“ He spits out, cheeks red for the little effort “Come here.” Michael’s strong hands grip your waist, pushing your torso against his naked body, his cock rubbing on your tummy, droplets flowing from his red tip, staining your skin and rolling down your legs.

Michael starts to grind on your tummy, while his tattoed hand runs to your core, simply pushing your underwear aside, already wet and sticky.

“Not as unaffected, mh?” The blonde moans into your neck, but you can feel his smirk on your skin.

“Shut up and behave, omega” You moan into his ear, making Michael buck into your pelvis. One of your hands keeps his hips close to your tummy, not a lick of air between your bodies while the other starts to finger his puckered and wet hole, welcoming your fingers with the same intensity of two long-lost lovers finally meeting.

“Mgh, ah-“ He throws his head back, exposing his throat to you, sweats run down his Adam’s apple, begging to be bitten. You can only focus on him, his long chubby fingers caressing your core, curling and pistoning into you with no finesse or thought, just desperately trying to prepare you for the next act.

His wetness rolls down your wrist, you add another finger and then another scissoring and massaging his tight hole, trying to prepare him as best as you can. His hormones hit you stronger than before; almost unbelievable since earlier you had almost choked just by entering his house.

The hand that kept his hips close left his body, finding on the ground Michael’s toy.

“W-wait-“ Words cut off by a sigh, his blue irises, almost entirely covered by the pupils, are crossed but a crumble of sanity still seems to be there “Kiss-still no” He gulps “Still haven’t kissed” He slurs, you notice the fatigue in his words.

You don’t make him wait much more. Your lips lock with his wet ones. Tongues dancing together with no style or finesse, a mere exchange of saliva between lovers missing each other taste, delirious from each other smell. You break the kiss, but leave no time for Michael to whine about the sudden emptiness, his fuchsia toy’s tip already in his mouth, getting it ready for use.

Michael moans at each stroke of the toy on his tongue, you see him sucking on it, pulling a show for you. His fingers leave your core to start groping the fat of your thighs, pulling a whine out of your lips. Out of spite, you push harder the toy into Michael’s mouth, touching the back of it eliciting a gag and right after a moan out him.

“You are ready, baby.” You state, pulling out the spit-covered toy, making the blonde’s tongue loll out. You push back his blonde and blue mane, sticky with his sweat, before pushing on his chest to make him lean back on the old cover on the ground.

There is a copious amount of pre wetting both his abs and shaft, running down his legs straight to his hole and covers. “Ngh- ah.” Michael’s whine under your body, while you push the toy into his ass with no friction. The toy sucked in like the blonde man needs it to survive, chest rising and lowing so fast you almost worry he’s getting a panic attack.

“Ah-“ Micheal throws his head back when you finally push the toy entirely in, only the knot being left out vibrating at the setting you know he loves. You move it in a circular motion to rub the glands there that you know make him reach the skies of pleasure.

You start to trust the toy into his welcoming ass, eliciting moan after moan. His hands grip again your thighs and with the little strength he has left, Michael grinds your core on his shaft, mixing your body fluids together.

Fat tears roll down his reddened cheeks, sliding down his neck, while you start to grind without his help on his shaft, trying to reach your own peak while thrusting the toy into his hole. The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping and of your whines, soon you feel your canines sharpening, but never enough to be able to mark him.

Grinding is not enough now, your clit throbs in pain and you start to feel restless knowing you’ll never be able to reach your own peak like this. You finally throw your underwear away letting his cock penetrate your core, making the man under you almost howl in pleasure.

Michael’s cock twitches inside you, your tight hole hugging his shaft like a glove. Under you, his hips move confused, not able to decide if to follow the thrusts of the toy or to share with you a drop of the pleasure he is feeling now.

His hands can’t keep still, hesitant between squeezing the cover under him or your body, caressing and pinching. Each movement is a compliment, something your usual Michael wouldn’t say so easily. And then he says it, words that shake your heart, but not in a pleasant way.

“Mark me, make me-“ Words that make you gnash, teeth cracking under the pressure.

“I can’t you fucking idiot.” You show him your teeth. You are just a sigma, a glorified omega that will never be able to realize an omega's true desire.

Your words enter from one ear and exit from the other. Or just get reflected back by his thick skull. Michael cranes his neck to show you his engorged gland, exactly where one of his blue roses is tattoed, while he increases the rhythm of his hips, making you jump harder on his cock, each time making you hop closer to him.

“Please, help me. Please-“ The blonde cries under you, voice much more desperate than a simple whine.

“You really are, ah-“ ‘something else’ you wanted to add, but a delicious thrust make you lose on your tracks.

He starts to blabber your name, a confused plea to a merciful god. It sends a shiver down your spine, it makes your toe curl; the power you feel a sinful bliss.

You thrust the toy one last time, before using both your hands to pull his neck close to you. You bite, canines sinking into his warm skin. Michael twitches under you, hands now tightly gripping your legs and ass, leaving indents on your skin that will leave a mark.

“Love you-“  He moans into your ear, his thrusts into your core slowing down as he cums in you. It’s copious and you feel it already rolling down your legs. You start to tear up, so near your apex, but you never leave your hold on his neck, knowing a simple bite from your much less sharp canines won’t satisfy him.

“Say it again.” You mumble into his neck, eyes teary and with a shade of neediness in them.

Michael doesn’t stutter at your order, ‘love you’ blossoms from his throat and it illudes you that they are born from his heart. The thrusts of his hips are erratic, he keeps cumming into you, shaft sensitive and overstimulated, but not giving up ‘till you’ll reach your peak.

“Love you too.” You whine into him, biting as hard as you can before your body gives up under the intensity of your own release.

Pants echo in the room, both your smells mixed but it’s calming, a lull to your excited hearts. You lay on his chest, his tattoed hand caressing down your spine, soft fingertips brushing against your skin, no real thought behind this touch.

“Michael, I bit you.” You mumble into his chest, shame showers over you for letting yourself go so much, even if your gesture didn’t create any real damage; your teeth will never be strong enough.

You look up, Michael seems lost in thought, the heat subdued for a while. His red and plump lips are puckered, blue eyes looking at the ceiling.

The blonde leaves you hanging a bit more, his hand never stops caressing your body and you feel your body almost melting into his.

“I’m just sad-“ His voice is rough and he won’t look at you, but your heart jumps at the last word. You want to crawl out of your skin for having crossed his boundaries “The mark won’t last longer, guess you’ll have to bite me often.” Michael finally looks back at you, a smirk plastered on his face and blue irises sparkling with mirth knowing perfectly what he has done to your poor heart.

“You bastard.” You gasp out in relief, your lips locking into his like two magnets attracting each other. You feel him laugh under you, giving your tongue access to his mouth. It’s not an elegant kiss, it’s sloppy but also full of love a feeling you were both too scared to show.

“Heat will restart soon,” Michael says, pushing you away just enough to talk. “rest a little.”  You nod at him, your body is also sore, your muscles scream for a bit of rest before going all out again.

The day is still long.

[slugsby-pt3]

zero day headcannons

- andre is always bruised the fuck up from assholes at school because cal always has some smart shit to say and andre has to whiteknight him

- cal does not cut but andre….yall aren’t ready for that

- cal is depressed in the way that he is dissatisfied with the world and not the type where he feels the need to punish himself

- cal’s surprisingly a really good big brother and was really excited to get a baby brother

- andre and his older brother fight like dogs, andre has definitely chased his brother around the kitchen with a knife as siblings do

- andre isn’t a wall puncher because he’s so anal about his room looking a certain way so he goes down to his basement and breaks shit

- andre doesn’t listen to music, like he doesn’t have a favorite band at all. He listens to whatever’s on the radio that isn’t ear piercing and whatever cal listens to

- andre is a secret hopeless romantic, i.e keeping that note from a girl in eighth grade

- cal knows Rachel likes him and just see it as a non factory (plus a secret thing of liking how reactive andre gets where cal brings her up)

- andre unknowingly is in love with cal and just sees them as best friends that really care for each other (in a I just wanna kiss him in a bro way) and doesn’t understand his parents telling him they are “codependent”

- andre’s internalized homophobia is the reason him and cal died virgins

- even if they ended up realizing it, cal wouldn’t be able to get it up (hiii dylan)

- andre’s room is insanely tidy, like has the layout and an organizer so everything goes where it should

- cal’s room is dirty as all fuck, clean/dirty clothes on the floor, growing cultures in all the dirty moldy bowls on his bed side table and around his bed

- cal smells like applesauce and cheap weed

- andre is accidentally straightedge, not because he like believes in that ideology. He’s just very particular in the things he allows himself to do. (Plus cal got him high one time in tenth grade and andre hella greened out and it ruined it for him forever of it)

- people at school don’t know andre is jewish and just think he’s obsessed with German shit in a edgy nazi teenage boy way

- cal hates school functions, and even skips assemblies, but always comes to Andre’s cross country and track meets

- andre is very protective over mel and uses his money from his pizza job to buy her toys and clothes

- when andre and cal have sleepovers at Andre’s house, cal’s expected to adhere to mel having a specific spot on Andre’s bed since she was “here first”

- andre was known as the angry kid in elementary after throwing a printer towards a teacher in the second grade (giving Connor realness)

- andre has fun saying shit in French/german to confuse cal

- andre is that fucking irritating kid that plays devil advocate in history/government class

- andre took lineleader crazily serious in elementary school, fully letting that small sense of superiority completely control him

- he also took kahoot and dodgeball to the next level (andre was one of those shitty teenage boys that would throw it as hard as he could and then be a dick saying ‘I didn’t even throw it that hard’ as if he didn’t nearly pull a goddamn muscle doing that shit)

[shiftingdiariesofophelia]

i spend so much energy trying to make/find fun creative things to add to my scripts and i’m not gonna gatekeep, so here’s some of the funniest/weirdest/lowkey best things i’ve added to any of my scripts (that I haven’t talked much about before):

-I can always find things I need.

-Santa is real

-People just??? trust me??? I could genuinely tell someone that world war two was between the australians and canadians and they’d just be like yeah that checks out

-I don’t have allergies bc i hate sneezing

-Every pair of shoes I own are comfy as hell

-My hair can’t get knotted/tangled

-no periods because f that for real

-I always win/I’m naturally good at card and board games.

-Babies/Animals like me and will stop crying/whining/etc. when i’m around.

-cigarettes taste good and aren’t bad for you. i wanna be lana del rey coded so bad i guess

-i will literally never be in a situation where i have to kill someone. (useful for more dangerous drs!!!)

-random beef with the funniest character imaginable. hp dr? me and susan bones are arch enemies. fame dr? me and pete davidson indirect tweet each other all the time complaining. avengers dr? me and the ancient one are fist fighting in the mirror dimension idc

-indestructible things. i am clumsy and stupid i need this in every dr.

-pages don’t rip out of notebooks on accident (this has been the bane of my existence since 9 years old)

-I always have a hair tie when i need one. because you think you won’t need one, and then the second you don’t have it, you need it.

-people don’t smell. lifesaver.

-*random character* knows i shifted but can’t do a goddamn thing about it/doesn’t care and just goes with it. my favorite examples are Shane Dawson (fame dr) and Professor Trelawny (HP dr)

-i can’t get hurt in stupid ways (stubbing toe, tripping, etc.)

-if someone tries to shoot me the gun will literally fly out of their hand lmao (again, useful for dangerous drs)

-i know everyone’s phone passwords

-infinite toilet paper (for dystopia/woods/etc. drs, but could just be useful every day tbh.)

-i’ve always got some kind of out of pocket one liner for when the situation is too awkward

-tattoos don’t hurt (i am a pussy)

-adding random side characters/completely new mfers to my scripts because if i’m constantly around these fine ass bitches i know everything about i might actually have a heart attack

-when someone’s mean to me they get some form of karma in the next 24 hours directly related to how mean they were. call me stupid? enjoy tripping up the stairs. push me over? i hope you enjoy biting into a sandwich only to find the bread is moldy.

there’s probably more but this is just a short list of the first ones i could think of

[wronggalaxy]

I've seen people doing "shout out to disabled people with gross traits", so I thought I would do my own, but with traits I've never seen discussed in these posts(an asterisk (this thing: *) after it means it’s something I expirence)

So, shout out to disabled people who:

—Can't always wash their hands after using the toilet. *

—Who wet/mess themselves in bed(and can't clean it up) because "I can't leave bed" means I can't leave bed.

—Who get nosebleeds because they pick their nose so much. *

—Who can take a bath/shower, put on deodorant, and put on freshly washed clothes and still smell 'bad'. *

—Who can't help but get food/drink/blood/snot/etc. on their books/comics/magazines when they try to read. *

—Who eat everything with their hands. *(I've eaten cereal and soup with mine on multiple occasions)

—Who have/have had moldy dishes/pop bottles/wrappers/food/etc in their room for weeks or months or years or longer. *(I just recently had help from a sibling to replace my broken furniture, clean up my space, and throw out trash. Before that I had moldy stuff in my room for up to 4 or 5 years for some of it.)

—Who have never had bed wetting problems, but do struggle to stay dry during the day. *(Bed wetting is valid too, of course, and so is doing both, I've just seen people talk about bed wetting, but not day wetting.)

—Who eat things(specifically non-food things)you know you shouldn't. *(I'll eat just about anything(just not most foods), but I'm big on styrofoam and old chipped paint from my walls)

—Who don't know/can't use "basic manners" *

—And a bunch of other stuff I can't think of right now(feel free to add more in comments/reblogs)

There is no shame here.

[apopcornkernel]

@juuuks THEY HATED JESUS BECAUSE HE SPOKE THE TRUTH

no cause petrichor smells so bad idk why ppl are so obsessed with it

[shisasan]

Picking a single favourite quote might be an impossible task so which quote (or quotes) do you seem to come back to more often than others?

Picking a single favorite quote might truly be an impossible task because there are so many brilliant writers out there whose words have deeply influenced my life. These extraordinary souls have breathed new life into me when I was ready to give up on everything. Without any particular order, these quotes are not intended to enlighten or educate anyone but offer a brief insight into the words I turn to for comfort, inspiration, or understanding when I'm not at my highest self.

I'll begin with my most dearest Hermann Hesse, whom I like to call my Alpha and Omega. He transformed my life from a young age, opening mysterious portals to other worlds and making me feel deeply understood, embraced, with a true sense of belonging. His writing not only awakened my mind to new realms of thought and emotion but also offered immense solace and companionship through his exploration of the human spirit:

"A wild longing for strong emotions and sensations seethes in me, a rage against this toneless, flat, normal, and sterile life."

"I have always thirsted for knowledge, I have always been full of questions."

"We have to stumble through so much dirt and humbug before we reach home. And we have no one to guide us. Our only guide is our homesickness."

Rainer Maria Rilke, a beautiful and tender infinite soul, whose writings deeply resonate with the complexities of the human condition and the relentless quest for understanding:

"I am dark, I am forest."

"I grow strong in the beauty you behold. And with the silence of stars, I enfold your cities made by time."

"Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer."

Novalis, who occupies a cherished place in my heart for his poetic and deeply insightful exploration of life and love.

"We are eternal because we love each other."

"I often feel, and ever more deeply I realize, that fate and character are the same conception."

"Sometimes with the most intense pain a paralysis of sensibility occurs. The soul disintegrates—hence the deadly frost—the free power of the mind—the shattering, ceaseless wit of this kind of despair. There is no inclination for anything anymore—the person is alone, like a baleful power—as he has no connection with the rest of the world he consumes himself gradually—and in accordance with his own principle he is—misanthropic and misotheos."

Egon Schiele, whose intense and raw portrayal of human emotion and beauty has deeply moved me, revealing the unfiltered essence of the human experience.

"I must see new things and investigate them. I want to taste dark water and see crackling trees and wild winds. I want to gaze with astonishment at moldy garden fences, I want to experience them all, to hear young birch plantations and trembling leaves, to see light and sun, enjoy wet, green-blue valleys in the evening, sense goldfish glinting, see white clouds building up in the sky, to speak to flowers. I want to look intently at grasses and pink people, old venerable churches, to know what little cathedrals say, to run without stopping along curving meadowy slopes across vast plains, kiss the earth and smell soft warm marshland flowers. And then I shall shape things so beautifully: fields of colour…"

Anaïs Nin, a force of nature and embodiment of feminine strength, whose deep exploration of inner life and boundless creativity has left an indelible impression on me. Her work continues to inspire and challenge me to embrace the fullness of my inner world:

"She was colour, brilliance, strangeness."

"I have the power to multiply myself. I am not one woman."

"Ordinary life does not interest me. I seek only the high moments. I am in accord with the surrealists, searching for the marvelous."

"I can only connect deeply, or not at all."

Carl Gustav Jung, one of the most brilliant psychiatrists, psychologists, psychotherapists, and empiricists in history. Jung's exploration of the collective unconscious and shadow self has offered me invaluable tools for self-awareness and personal development. His legacy continues to inspire and guide those seeking to understand the depths of the mind and the path to self-discovery.

"A man who has not passed through the inferno of his passions has never overcome them. As far as we can discern, the sole purpose of human existence is to kindle a light in the darkness of mere being. Everything that irritates us about others can lead us to an understanding of ourselves."

"People will do anything, no matter how absurd, in order to avoid facing their own souls. One does not become enlightened by imagining figures of light, but by making the darkness conscious."

"The privilege of a lifetime is to become who you truly are."

Fyodor Dostoyevsky, the maddening genius with profound understanding of human nature and morality:

"If you want to overcome the whole world, overcome yourself."

"People speak sometimes about the 'bestial' cruelty of man, but that is terribly unjust and offensive to beasts, no animal could ever be so cruel as a man, so artfully, so artistically cruel."

"People. People. Endless noise. And I am so tired. And I would like to sleep under trees; red ones, blue ones, swirling passionate ones."

"I exist. In thousands of agonies—I exist."

"If there is no God, everything is permitted."

Virginia Woolf, a literary giant whose deep introspection and exploration of the human condition have left an indelible mark:

"No need to hurry. No need to sparkle. No need to be anybody but oneself."

"What is the meaning of life? That was all—a simple question; one that tended to close in on one with years. The great revelation had never come. The great revelation perhaps never did come. Instead, there were little daily miracles, illuminations, matches struck unexpectedly in the dark; here was one."

"I want to raise up the magic world all around me and live strongly and quietly there."

"Reality? Reality has never been enough for me."

Mikhail Bulgakov, a masterful writer and playwright, another troubled soul who faced censorship and persecution in his lifetime, with immense talent and a deep soul, fascinated me with his imaginary worlds that blend reality with fantastical elements, feeling both familiar and boundlessly expansive:

"But would you kindly ponder this question: What would your good do if evil didn't exist, and what would the earth look like if all the shadows disappeared? After all, shadows are cast by things and people. Here is the shadow of my sword. But shadows also come from trees and living beings. Do you want to strip the earth of all trees and living things just because of your fantasy of enjoying naked light?"

"Kindness. The only possible method when dealing with a living creature. You'll get nowhere with an animal if you use terror, no matter what its level of development may be. That I have maintained, do maintain and always will maintain. People who think you can use terror are quite wrong. No, no, terror is useless, whatever its colour – white, red or even brown! Terror completely paralyses the nervous system."

"Everything passes away - suffering, pain, blood, hunger, pestilence. The sword will pass away too, but the stars will remain when the shadows of our presence and our deeds have vanished from the Earth. There is no man who does not know that. Why, then, will we not turn our eyes toward the stars? Why?"

"There are no evil people in the world, only unhappiness disguised as evil."

And then there is indispensable Franz Kafka. Although I have shifted away from his writing in recent years and no longer resonate with it as much, he was a dear friend and frequent company during my darkest, loneliest, and most challenging times. His work, full of raw honesty and insight, offered a kind of companionship that felt both intimate and enduring:

"The way he can risk everything and risks nothing, because there is nothing but truth in him already, a truth that even in the face of the contradictory impressions of the moment will justify itself as such when the crucial time arrives. The calm self-possession. The slow pace that neglects nothing. The immediate readiness, when it is needed, not sooner, for long in advance he sees everything that is coming."

"I, for the most part silent, had nothing to say; among such people the war doesn’t call forth in me the slightest opinion worth expressing."

"You do not need to leave your room. Remain sitting at your table and listen. Do not even listen, simply wait, be quiet, still and solitary. The world will freely offer itself to you to be unmasked, it has no choice, it will roll in ecstasy at your feet." Of course, there are many more authors who deserve to be on this list, but I chose these because they have touched my life in ways that are both unique and deeply personal. I hope that at least some of you will read to the end and find a bit of inspiration and insight in these quotes, just as they have given me. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. 🌹

[z0mbiewh0re]

.𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔FICTOBER𖥔 ݁ ˖🦇 ݁˖ ݁𖥔 .

Day 3: pumpkin

Summary: pumpkin carving with bf!Rafe

Warnings: just fluff

“seriously baby? It's only the third of October, it doesn't make sense to get a pumpkin now until the 31st, it will have gone moldy."

Rafe complains as you look at pumpkins of all sizes and shapes.

"Even better! Then if the first one gets moldy we can make a second one!"

you rejoiced as you turned one of the pumpkins to examine it from every side.

"This one is perfect! I want this one rafe!"

Rafe let out a groan and rolled his eyes but then nodded.

"Whatever you want, baby."

He said and took the pumpkin in his hand to go pay for it. Meanwhile, you were already looking online for motifs that you could carve into your pumpkin.

When Rafe was finished with paying, you drove to his house together. Luckily, yesterday you had already bought a carving set so you could be properly prepared. Rafe thought it was too exaggerated, but actually he thought every holiday was too exaggerated, so you didn't care about his opinion anyway as long as he went along with your Plans.

When you and Rafe arrived at home, he got everything ready for you in the kitchen while you got 4 gloves.

"I've never carved a pumpkin before."

Rafe said as you placed two pairs of gloves in his hands.

"What?! never? like never before in your entire life?!"

you asked in shock. There wasn't a single year in your entire life where you didn't carve a pumpkin for Halloween.

"never."

He said and you shook your head.

"Yet another reason to detest your father..."

You mumbled as you put on the gloves.

“What kind of motive do we do?”

Rafe asked.

You take out your phone and open the picture you had picked out.

"this one."

You said as you showed him the picture. He just nodded and put a pen in your hand. While you started painting the motif on the pumpkin, he just stood behind you the whole time and stroked your hips. You grabbed the knife and started carving along the lines.

"Rafe, I have to concentrate..."

You just mumbled but he didn't react and pressed a few kisses to your neck. You reached into the pumpkin and pulled out the inside when Rafe suddenly stepped away from you.

"That smells so incredibly disgusting."

He said in disgust, holding his nose.

"You get used to it..."

You murmured before turning to him. "Besides, Im washing your old socks. They don't smell any better."

You simply said with a grin while he rolled his eyes.

"watch it."

He just said annoyed and watched you as he took off his gloves and threw them on the counter.

“How can you have so much fun with shit like that?”

he asked after a while. By now the entire insides of the pumpkin were out and the face was almost finished.

"Halloween is fun!"

you just said smiling. as he groaned.

"No it's not. The only positive thing about Halloween is that I can scare little shitty brats and steal their candy."

He said simply with a scoff.

"Wow...very mature of you Rafe."

You simply said, suppressing a laugh. "Finished!"

You said as your smile grew wider and you placed the lid on the pumpkin.

“Doesn’t it look great?”

You asked Rafe, turning the finished pumpkin towards him.

"not really."

He replied making you pout.

"You're a party pooper and I'm going to ignore your annoying comments from now on."

You simply said as you started to pick the seeds from inside you took out from the pumpkin before.

"What are you doing now?!" Rafe asked, sounding even more annoyed than before. "Pumpkin soup from the leftovers!"

You replied before he suddenly grabbed your hips and threw you over his shoulder. "Yeah no. Absolutely not! Pumpkin time is over, your attention is mine now!"

He said as he took you to his room and threw you on his bed.

"but the pumpkin-"

you started but he threw himself on top of you and buried his face in your shoulder. "Keep your mouth shut..."

He murmured as you sighed and ran your hands through his hair.

"Whatever you want, Rafe."

[alextydaisuda123]

So I decided to just sketch, why, I don't know. But then I was hit by a wave of Weirdcore on YouTube, and I realized that I wanted to draw something about the theme of my AU Weirdcore Tower. It also coincided that I had a bad headache (I passed out for 4-5 hours). And one thought came to my mind. Diseases. Yes, again, well, sorry, I just like such topics, and I also had some thoughts on this matter. Well, it's no secret that in Weirdcore Tower there are not only strange and frightening locations, but also events related to the inhabitants of this tower themselves. One of such events is diseases. These four (PM, Vigi, Noise and Noisette) can get sick. They can get sick from anything and each one will have different symptoms and consequences. But everyone has the same pain.

Pepperman

If he gets sick, expect that he will start to hide his illness at first, because he is AFRAID of getting sick. His body will start to melt like a piece of butter, his body will start to heat up and to the touch he will also be as hot as a boiling kettle. Black liquid will flow from his eyes abundantly without stopping, and he can go completely blind. Also, his arms and legs will slightly look like tangled threads due to tension and pain.

Vigilante

If you thought that because of his "ghostly" nature he will get sick less, then no. He does not like to get sick. His symptoms are as follows. His body will seem heavier than before and everything will get to the point that he can simply fall to the floor and spread out like slime. He will not be able to get up and fly and he will simply stick to the floor. And he will also have a terrible smell, like a rotten body or a moldy product. At least he will not hide that he is ill, the smell will still give him away.

Noise

Who hates being sick even more is Noise. At this moment, he is overcome by unbearable pain. Every step, every touch and every movement will bring him pain, as if he is walking on knives or being pierced non-stop by thousands of needles. It hurts him even to stand or lie down, although he does nothing. It happened that Noise tried to endure the pain and try to prolong the show, but it was unbearable and brought even more torment.

Noisette

With this poor thing, the symptoms are no better. From her mouth and under the buttons, a black liquid begins to flow non-stop, from which she will not be able to say anything. It feels like everything inside her is trying to get out. This also spoils her taste buds and sense of smell (she will find everything she eats or smells disgusting, even her own food). As for smells, she will also be irritated by the smell of the environment, which no nose can sense. At some point, she will cough up her "bloody" filler, but this happens rarely, and if she does not strain herself too much to cough up the black liquid. There will also be stages of dizziness. Well, as I said, the consequences after the disease are also unpleasant: PM will remain blind after the disease (vision will return over time), and his body temperature will still be hot; Vigi will remain with an unpleasant temporary smell; Noise will continue to experience pain, but will resume movement; Noisette will be silent for some time and smell unpleasant odors. That's how it is, phew. And yes, if anyone has a question about whether Bruno and PH can get sick, then no. In general, they are not adapted to diseases.

[s3thwrit3sstuff]

hello seth! i don’t think my tumblr works with anon so i’ll just send it like this! i’m a huge fan of your writing and i absolutely adore it. whenever i am in the need for a good story and writing inspiration i go to your blog. so i was hoping if you could write a sally face fic! i haven’t seen too many on here and willing to write for m reader or ftm.

i like the thought of being with sally and just having time with him, soft domestic type stuff. then he starts asking you how you really feel about his face and you smile and take off his mask with permission and kiss him saying he’s beautiful and to not worry. you kiss him and hold him. he then sits up but keeps your lips locked and you begin to explore each other sexually but in a such intimate way you both are crying almost. if you want could be m reader but i would love a ftm reader! can we also have reader be bottom but still be guiding sally and affirming him. i know this is a big ask and you’re always working so hard so please take liberty with this ask! take what you want from it and remove what you don’t like. i just love you’re writing. take your time as well! writing can be draining sometimes and you really need to find that inspiration so i want to make sure you feel no pressure!

have a good day/night/evening!!<3

❝ I'll show you how we're supposed to feel (when we meet at Orion's belt) ❞

SalFisher x ftm!reader | fluffy, NSFW | reader has had top-surgery & bottom growth | sub. bot. reader | NOT PROOFREAD | wc: 5.4 k

warnings: mentions of facial dysphoria, self-deprecating thoughts (Sal), unprotected sex, praise (a lot of it), minor hair pulling, creampies, AFAB terminology (clit referred to as dick/cock, terms like cunt and boypussy are used)

masterlist ;

authors note: thank you so much for your kind words! hearing that you use my writing as writing inspiration made me feel so warm and fuzzy on the inside oh lord 😭 you're too kind! This request was the softest one I've ever worked on, thank you so much for gracing me with the opportunity to write this~

*song on repeat: Orion's Belt by Sabrina Claudio / Baby Girl by SMNM

"Cold, cold, cold," Sal lifts his head from the couch. The sight of you rushing down the wooden stairs in nothing but a towel makes him lift himself to sit. "Fuck! Sal, you should put carpet in here!" Grinning, he leans forward and folds himself in half to stare at you furiously lifting the towel up to wrap around your shoulders instead.

"You hate carpet. B'sides, it'll get that weird moldy smell in here. I told you to get those fuzzy slippers," Gizmo meows in agreement from his corner of the couch. "Traitor!" you exclaim and he simply meows once again, lifting a leg to lick his stomach and Sal reaches over to give his head a good scratch.

"See? Even Gizmo agrees."

"Gizmo has in-built fuzzy socks. He has no say in this," your huffing and puffing simply makes Sal roll his eye, lifting Gizmo up to place the large cat right on his stomach while he props his head onto the armrest of the couch. Gizmo stretches out onto his torso, unbothered by the change in position while he presses his nose into Sal's chest and twists until he's nearly full on his back; the action makes Sal secure the old cat on him. His olive-toned arm loosely wrapped across Gizmo's purring body.

You're still rambling but it's all background noise to Sal. The sight of your bare legs and backside calls for his attention and despite how guilty he feels, he can't help but drag his sight all the way up to your — now — bare shoulders. The towel is now limply draped over the towel rack, and your muscles and bones are moving seamlessly underneath the fabric of your skin.

Everything about you can make him feel like he's going to explode. In a good way, if you can believe it. He sure as hell didn't. Sal remembers the first time he saw you, thinking you looked cool and that it was nice your interests lined with his. Somehow you managed to become more than that.

More always scared Sal. It was greedy and selfish. He wasn't religious but there was a sense of anxiety that came from wanting and needing more than you were given. Some sort of divine guilt was planted within him through passing by churches and reading the signs of worship plastered on billboards. Needing more is frightening, especially from other people.

More time spent with you two. More hours of listening to you speaking. More days spent with you in his home, bare skin and bare soul all for him and only him.

It frightened him!

Because, as self-centered as it sounds, he'd have to give you more. Don't take this the wrong way, he wants to — God, he wants to — but...but...

What if you don't like all that he has?

The fabric of his skin is spoiled. Marred. One of his eyes is artificial, his jaw asymmetrical, bone blown to bits, nose cut off and skin grafts stitched together and spliced.

His heart hammers in his chest, and his breathing is shaky as he squeezes Gizmo. The patch-furred critter mews, twisting once again and crawling up. His weight on Sal's chest is comforting. The pressure across it squeezed down on him, reminding his body that it was real and he was safe.

"In conclusion, I propose we buy a heater! That way we can — "

You're dressed in Sal's pajama pants, hands in the middle of pulling down the oversized band shirt when you notice Sal squeezing his eyes shut.

"Sal? Baby? What's wrong?" You sit by his legs, placing a hand on his knee and pressing your hands on it to ease him back down. "You're okay, baby. You're okay." It's not often Sal gets like this. You've known him ever since he came to Nockfell County; you know he's the type of person to withdraw within himself when his anxieties get the best of him. He's certainly gotten better with time and as your friendship — and eventual relationship — got stronger, the both of you worked on ways to lean on each other when things get tough.

Sal inhales deeply, Gizmo raising with the motion, and exhales. You don't pry more, giving him room to find the words and tether back to you. Gizmo's purrs muffle the silence.

"Sorry, just, the sight of your ass gave me a heart attack, Jesus," the joke is met with a loose grin but Sal knows you better than that. Still. He's grateful you snort at his jesting. Gizmo stands — Sal grimaces as he puts all his weight on his sternum — then walks over to your lap instead. The sight makes him calm down.

The faded grey of the once-black band shirt and his pajama pants do too. It's silly but the sight of you in everything that's his comforts a part of him. You're here. You're in love with him. Your gaze holds nothing but patience and adoration and a tinge of worry.

But you're here, in his clothes, in his room, his cat in your lap, and your hands on his body.

"You feeling better, Sal?" He nods, pushing to sit. "Do you wanna talk about it, baby?" Gizmo gives your chin one more bump before he jumps on the floor and meanders his way to his food bowl. Taking the chance, you inch closer to Sal and he's grateful for it.

You're not scared of the cold prosthetic on his face. The iron bolts that secure the straps to his face and head, the glass eye that shines humourlessly in any situation.

"Do you ever want...more from this? From me?" That line of questioning made your brows furrow and mouth frown. "What do you mean?" You reach for him and Sal reciprocates by holding your hand in his lap.

"I was joking about seducing Mr Smith from the electronics store for a heater," he scoffs at your lame joke but continues. "I don't mean that, I'll get us a heater. Just..."

"You've never seen...all of me." His grip loosens but you don't let it. "So?" he looks at you, his face angled low and the shape of his prosthesis mimics his brow bone. Sal is pinching his face, confused at your indignant tone.

"So?" He whispers. You lift his hand up, inching in closer and placing his knuckles over your clavicle.

"So?"

"Doesn't it freak you out? We've been together for so long and you've never seen my face," he murmurs. Since you're so close, speaking above a whisper would ruin this moment. Sal's heart is racing again though this time the anxiety is laced with his love for yours. It's a confusing emotion but he relishes the way you press your forehead to his, nose bumping with the bump on his prosthesis.

"Do you want me to see your face?" He inhales sharply, glancing away.

"...I do. But..."

"Mm?" you spread his fingers out, guiding them to your neck and the calloused pads of Sal's fingers make gooseflesh spread. The hairs on the back of your neck standing in applause; because that's what he does to you.

He makes your pupils expand, makes your heart race, makes your brain produce dopamine; your body lights up like a goddamn firework when he so much as looks your way. You can be yourself with him without fear because you know you do the same to him.

"...I've only ever let you kiss me when it's dark. The first time we had sex, I couldn't even take off the mask...I just...I'm..."

Your frown deepens when Sal sighs, his shoulders dropping.

"Be honest. Does it bother you?"

He's glad you don't reply immediately. A part of him always worries your love for him overtakes everything else. That, if something ever happens between the two of you and it tears you apart, you'll feel regret once the love is gone. You brush his hair behind his ear, cupping his jaw as you shake your head.

"No. It doesn't. Because it's you, Sal. I love you. Even the parts you aren't ready for me to see." He exhales and his breath escapes through the slits of his mouth. You feel it on your thumb and it makes you grin.

There's a twitch in his eye and your grin falters for a moment before it reappears when he locks eyes with you.

"...Do you want me to see your face, baby?"

His jaw is set. His tongue is made of lead. So Sal simply closes his eyes and gives you a minuscule nod. If it weren't for your hand on his jaw, you probably would've mistaken it for a twitch.

"Can I take off your prosthetic?"

Another nod.

"Are you sure, baby? I won't do it if you're not — "

"I'm sure." He says in one breath. "I'm sure."

A moment of silence was shared and you leaned forward to press your lips in the molding of his. The cool material does not pulse or pump with life but it's your Sal's and you cherish it deeply; he exhales shakily and you grin as your fingers dance through the locks of blue to find the straps that hold the prosthetic in place.

It's secure, it's meant to be, and you can feel the wear and tear of the years in the material. The scratches and indents weaved into every fiber. You unbuckle the lower end first and Sal tightens his hold on you, so you pause and press another kiss to his porcelain cheek.

When he nods, you continue, cupping the mask in one hand to steady it while you undo the upper buckle.

Sal would be statue-like if it weren't for the nervous tremors in his fingers. The mask loosens and its weight drops into your hand. His breath does not come through the slits anymore and you can feel it breeze through the fine hairs on your fingers.

He says nothing and neither do you. Still, you place one more kiss on the forehead of his prosthetic and lower it from view.

Sal has his eyes cast away, but he faces you. There's a large scar across the right side of his mouth, splitting his lips and exposing his teeth. There's a dent on the right side of his lower jaw that leaves his bone structure slightly unbalanced, and the cartilage of his nose is completely missing. The skin has healed, stretching his eye and tugging on the rest. It's pinkish still, never quite settling into the rest of his olive-toned skin, and Sal understands why it's jarring.

It's like peeling back the layers of what makes humans...humans.

The skin. The sight of his face makes people unnerved. Teeth and gums and muscles and the lack of a nose. One side of his face was a plain canvas and the other was a goddamn Jackson Pollock painting of horror.

Your touch on his bare skin shocks him. The pads of your fingers drag across his cheekbones. "Does it hurt?" You ask with your eyes lidded.

"No, no, it...it doesn't." You smile and your thumb rests just under his eyes, sweeping fondly while your palm holds his face preciously within your hand. There's a flush to his skin — it's not unusual with how the prosthetic held over his face nearly 24/7.

There's a feeling of nakedness that comes without the even pressure across his visage but your hands are an amazing substitute.

"You don't have to be nice," he says. "It takes a lot to get used to — "

"I know I can't completely convince you to not think of yourself as 'something to get used to' but you're not. Not to me." Sal's eye water and he wills himself to finally look at you.

There's a pinch to your brows, it makes your eyebrows cast this shadow across your eyes and highlight the colours of your eyes. You're frowning at his self-deprecation, though beyond that he can see you mean well.

"I would gladly sit on your face, Sal."

He scoffs, groaning as he slips away from your hand to toss his head back and flop right onto the couch again. "You're fuckin' impossible, (Y/N)," he mumbled as his hands covered his face. You place the prosthetic down on the makeshift coffee table near the couch and chuckle as you swing one leg over his hips and rest your crotch over his.

"What? I'm being honest here!" Bracing your weight on your elbows, Sal finds the comfort of your body across his similar to Gizmo's. "You're fucking beautiful," he squirms at that and you huff, nuzzling your face into his neck while he peeks from over his fingers.

"You don't have to say that," you huff once again. "I'm not saying that because I have to, I'm saying it because I want to. You're fucking beautiful, me being your boyfriend is just a coincidence."

He feels you shifting and instinctively, his hands rest on your hips and there he is again. You know you shouldn't stare, so you don't, but the shy glances at his face are less than secretive. His eyes are blue, cobalt almost, and his eyebrows are a darker shade of his hair. The shape of his eyes is rounded, with a deep crease and heavy eyelids just like his father's. Lifting your head, you gaze down at him and your hands are once again gingerly ghosting on his skin. This time, they're tracing his collarbones, feeling up the protruding muscle of his neck and halting at his jaw.

"Can I kiss you, baby?" He has a quirk. A lip twitch that he does when he's excited; you've been dating him for years and you're still finding out new things about your boyfriend. It makes your heart race and it only triples in speed when he nods. Hovering, the peak of your lips ghost his. He had always envied how you kiss his prosthetic. It was an extension of himself but he hated how badly he wanted to feel you on him.

They press to his and Sal slips his eyes closed. It's nothing more than a peck. Innocent, chaste. But then he's tightening his grip and pulling you in; tilting his head like he's always seen other people do and you're grinning into it. He knows because he can feel it.

He can feel it.

How your lips spread, the hint of teeth that slide over his bottom ones, and the crinkling of your nose that's brushing over his cheek.

"You taste so good, pretty boy," your words make his ears red. "I'm sure anything is better than kissing porcelain," he replies with a breathless tone, leaning forward again as if unwilling to part from you even if just to talk.

"No, don't disrespect yourself like that. What did we say about making those jokes." "Hah, I'll stop when you do."

Giggling, you're leaning in again. Sal wonders if kissing you is the only reason he's not completely in tears. The first time he'd accidentally showed Larry his face, he'd cried because Larry didn't look away from him. You taste tears on your lips and Sal curses softly as he tucks himself under your jaw, groaning. You shush him comfortingly, threading your fingers through his hair as he takes a few deep inhales.

"I love you." Those words are followed by more tears and you squeeze him again. "I love you, Sal," he nods against your — his — shirt. He can feel the grin you have from the crown of his head.

"I love you. I love you. I love you."

Because you did. Sal was the man you wanted to be with until the Earth decided to throw in the towel; it didn't matter how buried your love for each other would be, because when your bones are dug up, or his guitar, or the treasure trove of things you've called yours; in the future, when you whisper to those archeologists: "Do you know?" they'd nod and reply, "We know you loved him."

Sal has never felt love like this. One that felt overwhelming at first, the same way entering a body would be for the first time in your life, but once he embraced the feeling? It was so...fulfilling.

How lucky was he?

Sal pulls away to cup your face and he leans in. You meet him halfway.

The feeling of your breath, your heart thudding against his own chest, the pulse beating under his thumb as he holds your neck — Sal isn't sure if he'd ever get into heaven but he doubts it ever compares to you.

His jaw moves and your lips part as you press closer. Fuck, kissing him felt like drinking in sunlight. There's a freedom that follows it, leaves you floaty and blissful.

"I love you," he replies between the friction, teeth biting down on your lower lip if only to hear if you'd gasp. You do.

"I love you so fuckin' much, (Y/N)." There's a feverish desperation in his words. But it makes your heart swell. There's no doubt in his eye, nothing but the truth and the truth is he'd worship you.

You're kissing again. Eager to show him the explosions he sets off within you. Between desperate lip locking and messy tangles of tongues, his hands move down and up your — his —shirt.

Squeezing your sides as he drags his digits across your skin. It spreads fire across your planes, has your already uneven breath shuddering as he memorizes the shape of your body again.

There's a growing hardness between his legs. You can feel it — twitching below your crotch as he tilts his head and tastes the lust that perspires from your neck.

He's greedy with his mouth. How could he not be? Sal has been wanting to taste you the second he realised how badly he wished you were his.

"Fuck, Sal." You groan, chewing on your lower lip as he experiments with this unmarked territory. His tongue is warm, his teeth brushes over pumping arteries with an air of amusement; when he finds the sweet spot? The spot where your breath hitched as he kissed it?

Sal makes your blood vessels explode. It isn't enough that the hairs on your neck stand in attention because of him, or how your blood rushes to your head when he so much as looks your way. He's determined to show you he can worship you in more ways than one.

You're gripping onto his shirt and your hips grind down. The moan he lets out makes your cunt wetter than before.

"I need you," you tell him as he sinks his teeth in. Just to test it out, to see if you'd like it. You do. His back feels cold as you lift his shirt but he grips at your wrist, panting as he moves his head away so you can see him.

"Can I...Can I keep it on?" He already felt a touch too exposed. You nod, reassuring him with a chaste peck.

"I'm gonna take of my shirt. You've made me all warm," he smiles a bit too smugly. He's handsome that way. When he gets a bit cocky — it's a sure fire way to make your head dizzy with desire.

"My shirt," he mumbles.

But when your bare torso is revealed the sass is pushed away. Sal presses kisses on your chest, teasing your perk buds with his too-warm hands and relishing in the way you toss your head back when he takes one in his mouth.

"Sal, holy fuck." He kneads at your ass, making your hips move back and forth. Rocking your clothed cunt over his boner as he leaves hickeys and bitemarks.

Here is where I plant my love, he thinks as he feels your heart pound against your ribcage, here is proof that he's mine.

Your pants are pulled below your waist and Sal moves back, making you yelp at the loss of balance. One second you're over him and the next, you're both tumbling over the couch.

His hand cradles the back of your head, curling over you as much as he could when you crash. Thankfully, none of you knocked into the coffee table but the adrenaline of the short fall makes the both of you wide-eyed.

"Holy fuck!" You laugh breathlessly. He scans you for any injury but soon follows suit. "You okay?" His hair curtains your face from view as he descends to claim your lips again.

"I'm peachy, baby." Sal grunts as you tug at the waist band of his pants. "Don't stop..." and how could he say no to you when you look up at him like that?

Your hands invade underneath his shirt and Sal moans as you press your fingers lightly into his back, kneading at the tense muscles. "M'not gonna take it off. Just wanna feel you," you assure as you reach his shoulder blades. God, the feeling of your hands on his body made him feel so Holy.

Ironic in the grand scheme of things but it's not like Sal gave a damn.

It's your turn to mark him up. He often already is. But this time your lips latch onto the obvious places. Lifting yourself to sit, Sal is suddenly at your mercy as you lovingly bruise him up with your mouth.

Sal lifts himself off your crotch a bit, panting and moaning at your ministrations, and slips his hand down your pants. Your breath stutters as your boyfriend touches your core.

"Sal," you plead. "I know, baby. I know," Sal frowns when you whine. "What? What's the matter, sweetheart?"

"You're just..." You're breathing heavily as you stare up at him, nails lightly digging into his skin as your dick twitches against his palm.

"You're so fucking beautiful, Sal."

That catches him completely off-guard. He hates how tears immediately burn at his waterline but regret doesn't come when they travel down his cheek. You're kissing him and the self-depriciation doesn't once rise. That snivelling, hissing, voice of doubt remains mute as you hold him.

"So fucking pretty," he slips his finger in as if attempting to distract you with pleasure. It makes you keen but you continue to sing praises for him as he pumps his digits in and out of you.

It's hard to move when you curl your arms over his back, hands peeking from the stretched out collar of his shirt. Forehead once again pressed to his.

"I can't — "

"You're all mine. My pretty boy is all mine." Blood should not rush so quickly to one's head. His chest is dusted in red, his shoulders, his ear, the apples of his cheek —

"You feel so good, Sal."

You allow him to push you back, splaying out onto the floor with your eyes lidded in want as he looked at you.

"...Shit, you're making my brain go all stupid," he grumbles — it sounds more like a whine. You lift your hips as he tugs your pants down and off. Sal gets between your legs and for a moment you think he's about to just slide in — which causes you a bit of concern considering how much meat he's packing between his legs — but then he lays on his stomach and your cock peeks straight up.

"I've watched a few pornos," he says with a grimace, "but — "

"I can guide you, Sal." He's looking up at you with those doe eyes and you chuckle as you brush some of his hair back. "You made me cum from grinding on your goddamn leg before. You've got this, Sex Grandmaster Sal."

"Really don't think mentioning Larry's marijuana induced rambling is setting the mood, babe," your giggle smooths out the furrowed brows he had. "Sorry, sorry."

Your cunt is making his mouth water. Sal presses his thumb on your cock and the sigh you let out eases his worries. His tongue on your dick has you inhaling deeply, slowly, back arching off the floor as he looks up at you.

He's overzealous but fuck does it make you wetter than you've ever been. Licking and sucking on your cock while he teases the opening of your cunt with his fingers. The hints of teeth makes your hips twist but he holds your hips down with muffled groans.

"Fuck, yes. You're doing so good, Sal. S'fuckin' good — holy shit, babe," the way your voice gets all pitchy makes him grin. Your slick on his tongue is making him want more, so he spreads your lips apart and sinks his tongue inside, it makes your grip onto his head, and Sal moans into you at the pinpricks of pain that follow.

Fingers accompanies his tongue and you're clamping your thighs around his head. It forces Sal's face into your cunt and the whole thing has him chuckling against you.

Pinning your thighs apart, Sal licks and swipes at the slick around his mouth and chin, catching his breath as he curses.

"Fucking Christ, does it feel that good?" You whine in retaliation. "You're the one going down on me of course I'm going fuckin' crazy. You get all whiny when I go down on you too — "

He curls a finger inside of you and you cut yourself off with a particularly loud moan. The floorboards above you creak and like a deer lifting its head as a branch snaps in the distance, another follows as whoever was in the living room heard the echoing cries of pleasure.

Sal slips another finger in and you cover your mouth, glaring at his handsome face petulantly. It falters as he stretches you out, thrusting in and out with a steady rhythm that he occasionally breaks to curl his fingers up.

You're groaning and curling your toes, eyelids fluttering and squeezing shut as he jerks you off with his other hand. Loosening his jaw, Sal uses his spit to lube you up further. He had a thing for sloppy sex. You once joked he enjoyed the slick-and-slide of it all and he didn't deny it then and probably won't ever.

"Nuh - no, don't wanna cum yet, I wanna cum with you, baby," he slows his rhythm, staring at you as you lift yourself onto your hands and taste yourself on his lips.

"Want you inside me. Please, Sal, I'm beggin'"

"You don't have to. I've got you." He nods when you hold onto the waist of his pants. Pulling it down to his knees and let his cock spring out into the air. Fuck, it's a pretty dick.

It's fat and heavy. Thicker than longer, the girth always makes your toes curl. It's a darker colour compared to the rest of his skin tone, the mushroom tip a warmer shade that burns when you tease him too much. You motion for the couch and he leans against it, whispering your name as you hover over his cock.

"Fuck, you're so hot," he says as you pump his dick with your fist while you line it up to your cunt. "You're pretty fucking hot yourself, big dick," he struggles not to laugh in your face, shaking his head in 'disapproval' that's short-lived.

You sink down on the tip of his cock and Sal moans out your name, squeezing your hips. You shiver for a moment, willing your insides not to clench so excitedly when you've still got some ways to go.

"Shit, (Y/N). You're so fuckin' tight." You could not agree more. The more you go down on him, the more you're tempted to just squeeze him like a vice. Sal brings your face down to kiss him, very quickly becoming addicted to the feeling of it. It's no wonder teenagers made out in the hallways all the damn time.

Gravity helps you the rest of the way. When he's all the way inside of you, you part your lips, the way your eyebrows slope being felt on Sal's forehead as you clench around him.

"Fuuuuck, Sal" you're whimpering his name, arms wrapped around his neck as you look at him. "You feel so fuckin' good, baby."

He swallows thickly, reaching to push your hair away from your face as he gazes up.

"I love you, so fuckin' much. I love you, Sal," you're determined to make him turn into nothing but mush. He's certain of it. His insides felt like a field of flowers, all blooming at once, even if it didn't sense at all. There's an airy moan that escapes him as you squeeze your inner thighs, your hips move forward and Sal grips you like he's afraid you're just a figment of his imagination.

"I know, baby," he whispers back. "I love you, more than you can imagine."

A dopey grin appears on your face. "You think you can show me how much you love me, handsome?" He smiles and your heart feels like it's going to stop.

"I can do more than show you, pretty boy."

He turns you over on your side, not once pulling out. You hastily grab some couch pillows for the both of you before your descent onto the floor. It's cold but that's all the more reason to hold onto each other.

Once your head is on a pillow and you're on your back again, he drapes over you.

Another kiss. Another mischievous nibble. A sly dance of tongues.

Sal is pulling out, the drag of his dick makes you whimper, and thrusts back home. The action has your nails leaving welts on his back but it just reinvigorates him.

He's splitting you open and filling you up. Every thrust makes you see stars. You're unwilling to let him go if the legs wrapped around his waist are saying anything.

But Sal is growing flustered the more praises you tell him.

"That's it, baby. Fuck this pussy, this pussy's just for you."

"Fuck, you look so good, baby. On top of me, fucking me, shit — !"

"Oh, God, your cock is — yeah, right there! — you're in so deep, Sal -Ah!"

You're so fucking filthy.

He wants to hide his face in your neck but he doesn't wanna take his eyes off you. Eyes trailing where his lips and teeth had been, eyeing the sheen of sweat on you and your messed up hair.

The shower you just took had been in vain, huh?

"Fuh - fuck, I'm close," he warns, bracing himself on his elbows as he hovers above you.

"Yeah? Me — mff! — too. Cum inside, baby. Need to feel you — fuuuuck — dripping outta' me," he chuckles breathlessly at your words.

His hips are stuttering and he can see the way your brows are furrowing, angelic moan after angelic moan being knocked out of you. He gives your cock a rub and the way your back arches off the floor makes him hold his own orgasm back just so he can see you like this as clearly as he can take it in.

"Sal, oh fuck, baby!"

"I've got you, (Y/N)."

He chokes out a groan as he feels you clamping down on him, your cunt gripping onto him like it never wants him to let go. You gasp as he snatches your breath, messily making out with him as the aftershocks of your orgasm are barrelled through thanks to Sal's deep thrusts.

"Shit, shit, shit," you smile as he begins to lose his rhythm. Ignoring how sensitive your boypussy feels as he chases his end. "C'mon, baby, fill me up. Yeah, that's it."

He cums with one final thrust. The warmth of it floods your insides, earning pleasant shivers from you as you moan out his name. He's riding his orgasm out, pushing in and out of you shallowly as he catches his breath above you.

"Jesus, fuck..." You giggle at his words, chest rising and falling in rapid motions as your heart tries to calm down.

"That was, Christ, that was — " "Fucking amazing?"

He nods, falling on top of you as carefully as he can. You embrace him, humming as he kisses your neck while you rub his back. The both of you catch your breath, satisfied expressions etched on your faces.

When Sal moves, your eyes are already closed. He pulls out and you whimper at the loss, ignoring the way he stares at his own jizz dripping out of your cunt in favor of gazing at his face.

"We gotta take a shower all over again," he says, helping you sit up and accepting the hug you give him when you're righted.

"...Wanna do it all over again in the shower?" Your question earns a throaty chuckle. "Thought it was implied in my statement."

Another beat of comfortable silence is shared. Sal sighs, nuzzling his face into your neck.

"Thank you, (Y/N)."

"I've got you, Sal."

[l44serbeam]

hello, can i request college! ellie simping over oblivious reader 💝

eee i lov writing simp ellie shes such a munch

— ALL FOR YOU 𖤐 𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐦𝐬 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings — some good ol’ homosexual pining and loser lesbian syndrome, cursing, drinking, smoking, some fratty guy being creepy, sooome jealousy

For the past few years, Ellies followed y/n around like a lost puppy, accompanying her to all the parties, events, and get togethers. The two are attached at the hip, but lately somethings been eating away at Ellie and she just cant seem to let it go.

“Ellie. Im not gonna fucking smell it.” Y/n laughed as she swatted away the jar Ellie aggressively shoved at her face.

“C’mon y/n. If i had to suffer so do you.” Ellie menacingly cackled, her hand following y/ns nose as she attempted to dodge the scent of the four month old jar of moldy tomato sauce Ellie had grabbed from the fridge and instinctively took a strong whiff of.

“You’re distracting me.” Y/n whined as Ellie threw the jar in the trash and plopped onto the seat next to y/ns on her 2 chair dining table.

“You’ve been doing that shit since you got here this morning. Im feeling quite neglected and unwanted in my own home.” Ellie huffed, crossing her arms.

“I have two pages left, fifteen minutes at most. Then we can do whatever, I swear.” Y/n finalized, biting her lip as she scribbled on the bright yellow paper.

Ellie watched her work, eyebrows permanently scrunched and lips a gelatinous red from her chewing. The way she shifted uncomfortably in the seat as her lower back ached and would quietly huff whenever a question got too complicated.

In the past few years of their friendship, this had become a sort of ritual. Y/n would show up at Ellies house a good 15 minutes within Ellie waking up and shed study on Ellies table and Ellie would sit with her and watch her.

Well the last part of the ritual Ellie didn’t exactly want y/n to know about, but she couldn’t help herself. How could she not stare when she looked so sanctified, in her barest form, wearing her most comfortable clothes and her hair still not tamed from slumber.

It almost felt domestic. At least thats what Ellie thought. Shed order breakfast and they’d eat together is silence as y/n played out loud lecture recordings as they ate to not fall behind and Ellie would occasionally pretend to listen, but end up distracting y/n and laughing throughout, making her have to rewind and get back into the lesson.

Pretty much everything about y/ns and Ellies relationship was domestic, the two constantly together even at the most uneventful and peaceful moments.

They’d met the summer after their senior year, both attending a party near their new campus a month before the start of their college years.

In all honesty, when Dina had first introduced y/n to Ellie and they first exchanged greetings, shed set her mind on sparking a casual hook up and then forgetting about her, but how could she do that when after an hour the two were sat on the curb outside the party, nursing a joint and laughing maniacally at each others jokes with the haze of the alcohol. How could she just fuck y/n and leave when in the two hours they were sat on that curbside, she rambled endlessly about her personal ideologies and opinions, painfully pretty, passionate and giggly

That was one of the first things Ellie picked up within their conversations. Y/n was surprisingly intelligent and beautifully put together, made up of thoughts and theories that constantly molded her mind, making her practically impossible to figure out. She was complicated and beautiful and Ellie couldn’t help but feel a sense of adoration paint her chest.

The next years to come, Ellie and y/n were attached at the hip. They went to parties together, left together, ate together, studied together. All of it. And through all of it all Ellie could feel was warmth wrapping around her and a lightheaded buzz of euphoria. But even then, Ellie was convinced all y/n experienced was oblivion.

It wasn’t like Ellie hadn’t thrown hints or made it obvious that she yearned of her, but y/n had a tendency to not realize the things that were right in front of her. So, Ellie decided it’d be for the best if she just waits for her feelings to subside and not let anything change.

Ellie felt the buzz of her phone on her lap and flipped it over to see a message from Dina.

ELLIEEEEE ik ur with y/n ask her if u two r coming to jesses tonite

first of all how do you KNOW im with y/n 🤨🤨 and second.. she said yes

you two are practically a married couple ofc ur with her

Ellie chuckled at Dinas statement, making her cheeks redden in the slightest (not that shed ever admit it).

be at jesses at 7 or you will face ur doom mwahahahhahaha

Ellie lifts up her phone and faces the screen towards y/n. “I think she lost it.” Ellie laughed.

Y/n laughed at the message and Ellies comment. “Noo, she lost it a good four years ago.”

Y/n suddenly slammed her textbook shut and threw her pencil onto the table. “Im DONE.”

“Jesus, finally.” Ellie said. “Im gonna get ready i can drive you to your place so you can get ready and we can go kill time till 7 then off to Jesses.”

“Alrighty ill pack my shit up.”

“Look its my favorites!” Dina yelled out as she practically launched from Jesses couch and ran over to the two, pulling them both into a hug. The scent of alcohol and weed radiated from her, exciting y/n for the night.

Getting drunk and high with her best friends was one of y/n’s favorite things to do, all of them losing any sense of dignity or embarrassment and just letting loose with one another.

Y/n spotted a few unfamiliar faces littering Jesses apartment, red cups at hand and smoke clouding the home.

“Lets go get you started off. Im feeling quite lonely at my level.” Dina laughed, grabbing y/ns hand. Y/n looked back at Ellie and stretched out her purse to her which she responded to with a nod, grabbing the purse and beginning to back away towards Jesse.

“Cant believe you didnt wait for me.” Y/n said in a dramatically offended manner. Dina rolled her eyes, pulling y/n forward.

“I love you y/n, but its not my fault if you took forty thousand years to get here.”

When they reached the kitchen, a counter had a display of multiple bottles and differently tinted alcohol bottles and chasers.

Dina grabbed a bottle of tequila and two cups, pouring a double shot in each and handing one to y/n.

“God this shit can kill a grown man.” Y/n groaned at the intense scent of the alcohol wafting from the cup.

“C’mon.” Dina said, tapping her cup at the table and bringing it up to her lips, y/n following suit. The two gulped down the shots, both immediately reaching for the bottle of sprite as a chaser.

“Oh jesus.” Y/n coughed, her face sourly contorted. She shook her head quickly to shake it off and recover.

She grabbed two cups and poured some hawaiian punch that was on the counter, pouring some of the tequila on top. She made sure to pour one of them heavy handedly with the alcohol. “Im gonna go take Ellie a drink.” She told Dina.

“Ill be waiting for you on the dance floor.” She excitedly yelled before rushing off to the area next to the kitchen where the majority of swaying bodies danced to the loud music.

“Youre actually an idiot Williams. Like not in a joking haha funny way but you are genuinely dumb.” Jesse laughed, Ellie rolling her eyes and slumping back on the couch, her legs spread widely and arms defensively folded in front of her chest.

“Shut up Jesse. The only reason you and Dina got together was cause you don’t know how to take a hint and started talking about her to me on facetime and you didn’t know she was next to me. Not because of your unwieldy intelligence.” Ellie retorted, Jesse playfully punching her shoulder.

“You’re just mad dude. I think you’d loosen up if you juts fucking told her how you felt. You’re getting quite tense.” He finalized with a whisper as they watched a cheerful y/n making her way over with two cups in hand.

“Hello there.” Y/n said, stretching out the O as she plopped down on Ellies lap, handing her the drink that had more alcohol.

“Greetings.” Ellie said slickly, grabbing the drink from y/ns hand and smirking at her pinkened cheeks and already loose demeanor. She found her hand instinctively flattening on the lower part of y/ns back and bringing the drink to her lips, eyes squinting at the burning flavor masked by the slightest bit of fruit.

Jesse eyed the two and laughed to himself, shaking his head. Ellie looked at him and gave him a indicative look that read shut the fuck up.

“Where’d Dina go?” He asked y/n, taking in Ellies look.

“She went to go dance. Im gonna join her in a sec.” She responded, taking a swing out her cup.

Ellie reached into the pocket of her loose black denim button up and pulled out a tin. Y/n immediately recognized it as the tin Ellie kept her joints in. According to her it was the perfect place to keep them cause they stayed fresh longer.

She brought the joint up and pinched it between her lips, then searching through her pockets but not seeming to find what she was looking for.

“Got a light?” She asked through lips.

Y/n nodded and reaching to her purse that was in between Ellies thigh and the corner of the couch. She pulled out the lighter and brought it to the tip of the joint at Ellies lips, Ellie silently taken aback when she expected her to have just handed it to her.

When the smoke bloomed from the lit end, Ellie took a lengthy drag that further lit the cherry.

She grabbed it from her lips and handed the joint to y/n, letting her take as much she wanted before getting up and going to Dina.

Ellie watched y/n under the dimly lit lamp next to them on the night table, being one of the few sources of light. She looked peaceful, looking ahead at the crowd of people quietly with a hidden grin and swaying to the music. Her lips delicately wrapping around the joint and the lip gloss she insisted on applying right as Ellie parked her car and making her wait glimmered against the light.

Suddenly, y/n turned her head and her eyes caught Ellies, catching her in her tracks. She separated the joint from her lips and smiled.

“What?” She laughed at Ellies stagnant gaze.

Ellie laughed lightly. “Nothing. You just look happy.” She dismissed.

“Of course i am. Fucking studying shits been kicking my ass, i was dying to get out.” She said, not reading further into the look on Ellies eye as she watched her.

“Alright, im goin’ in.” Y/n said, patting Ellies leg and handing her the joint as she stood up.

“Have fun.” Ellie said, leaning back again and fixing herself on the couch.

Jesse leaned back once again, his lousy conversation with a guy who stopped by them as Ellie and y/n spoke ending, but that didnt mean her didnt hear the entire conversation between her and y/n.

He looked at her and laughed. “Youre a fool Ellie. A fool.” He said, Ellie groaning and planting her hands on her face, trying to cover the slight laughter that escaped.

“Y/N!” Dina called, seeing y/n search for her closer to the edge of the crowd. At her name, y/n beamed and pushed towards her. “Thought you were never gonna make it!” She yelled in y/ns ear slightly louder than necessary.

“Ellie sparked up.” Y/n said back.

“So you weren’t dancing with me cause your were blue balling Ellie?” Dina laughed and said in a sarcastically offended manner.

“Shut the fuck up.” Y/n said firmly, but playfulness playing at her tone.

“Oh how you torture that poor girl.” Dina laughed.

“Stop i do not.” Y/n huffed. “We’re best friends Dina. She doesn’t see me like that.”

Dina sighed and twirled around to the music. “You’re so oblivious.”

“She would never.” Y/n stated in a stonier tone.

“But would you.” Dina asked sharply, raising her eyebrows knowingly and crossing her arms.

Y/n rolled her eyes but remained silent.

“Whatever dummy. Forget about that.” Dina said, grabbing y/ns hands and urging her to start dancing with her which she slowly caved into, losing herself in the beat of the music.

The two jumped and swayed, only stopping to gulp down a portion of the drinks in their hand and keep dancing.

Y/n felt a pair of hands wrap around her waist, the persons body pressing into her back and the scent of heavy liquor and pungent cologne invading her senses.

When Dine turned towards y/n and saw the man behind her, her face contorted as she made confused eye contact with y/n.

Y/n turned around and gently put her hands on the mans chest, softly pushing him away as she backed up.

“Sorry im not interested.” She yelled over the music.

“What were just dancing!” The man said back, still stepping towards her. “Pretty thing like you shouldn’t be dancing alone baby.”

Y/ns and Dinas faces both painted with disgust, y/ns push becoming slightly harder.

“Thank you, but no thank you.” She insisted, this time turning around the push out the crowd.

Behind her the man followed, keeping track of her through the people and still trailing behind her as she walked toward the kitchen.

“C’mon. Whats your deal.” He said as she stopped at the drink counter and started making another drink, not paying attention to the guy. “Don’t be a bitch.” He said, grabbing the back of her hips and pressing against her backside. She quickly grabbed his wrist and turned to aggressively push him off and in all probability, probably punch him square in the face, but before she could do that a hand gripped his shoulder and he was harshly pulled off of her, stumbling back.

“Shes obviously not into you dude. Fucks wrong with you.” Ellie said, getting frighteningly close to his face, chests touching. Ellie was practically the same height as him if not taller, by this time her jacket off, revealing her built arms from her black wife beater.

It seemed like a fight he did not want to pick, putting his hands up and backing away with a shit eating grin. “Alright, definitely mot worth it.” He said, walking away and out of the kitchen. The few people that lingered around there looked at y/n, one or two asking if she was ok.

When everyone cleared out and went about with their business Ellie looked at y/n, her hand brushing her forearm. “You sure you’re ok?”

“Yeah i am, just got me a little nervous.” Y/n wearily laughed as she spoke, turning back around and finishing pouring the alcohol in her drink with shaky hands.

“Careful there.” Ellie said, her hand pulling down the end of the bottle for y/n to stop pouring seeing how much she was putting in.

“Im good Ellie.” Y/n said in a firmer manner, looking back at her.

“I know.” She softly responded. “Cmon, lets go to the couch.”

“Im gonna use the bathroom really quickly then ill meet you there.”

“Need me to wait for you?”

“No its ok, go make sure no one takes your spot.”

Ellie nodded and walked back to the couch, Y/n finding the vacant bathroom and locking herself in it. She set down her cup on the counter and turned on the water, splashing some of it on her neck to combat the heat that seated to be radiating from her body. She looked in the mirror and took a breath, recomposing herself.

“Alright.” She said to herself, swinging open the door again and walking towards the sofa. When the made it into the living room, the first thing she spotted was Ellie in her spot at the couch, and next to her a pretty blonde girl with big round eyes looking up at her, a smile on her lips.

Y/n stopped in her place and watched as Ellie seemed to explain something to her, her hands moving and making signals and the girl eagerly nodding along.

Something shot up y/ns spine in that moment and she considered just walking up to them and taking a seat on her usual spot (that being Ellies lap) but her words to Dina rung.

She just sees me as a best friend. She sees her as someone to be with.

With that thought ringing through her head she turned towards the balcony door besides her, stepping out and being hit by the cool breeze.

A man ashed his cigarette and y/n asked if she could bum one off of him, to which he said yes and gave her one then exited, leaving her alone.

She lit the cigarette with a random lighter from the chair and drew from it.

Her drunkenness had taken a turn with the sighting, going from a jolly and joyful to sad and sulky. Its not like she felt like Ellie had any obligations to her or the other way around, but that didn’t stop y/n from feeling a sharp tiny stab to her gut.

There was a knock on the glass door of the balcony causing y/n to whip back around. A tall girl stood at the glass waving at y/n almost as a warning that she was coming out.

“Hey sorry to bother you. Mind if i smoke out here?” The girl asked.

“No not at all.” Y/n said turning back towards the view and taking another hit of the cigarette.

“I know you.” That girl said in a recognizing tone as she pulled out her own cigarette. “We have Microbiology iolgoy together. You sit next to, whats her name?”

Y/n laughed lightly. “Yeah, a friend of mine, Leah.”

“Yeaah.” The mystery girl responded.

“Whats your name?” Y/n asked but before the girl could answer, the glass sliding door of the balcony swung open.

“Y/n i was fucking worried about you.” Ellie said sharply, eyeing the girl that stood besides her hastily. “Sorry im gonna have to take her.” She said as she grabbed her arm and began pulling her, not a drop of genuine apology in her voice.

“Ellie what the hell. She was nice i was having a conversa-”

“You had me scared y/n. I mean what the fuck you said you would be there i a minute and almost twenty go by and no ones seen you. You don’t even know her and you were practically on her.” She said, not making eye contact. Y/n shook her arm out of Ellies grasp, making both of them stop in the empty hallway.

“And you didn’t know that girl but that didn’t stop you from go for her. You can have flirt with people and get with girls but i cant?”

“What girl y/n? What are you talking about?” Ellie questioned harshly.

“From the couch Ellie. You were going for her and i didnt want to barge in. You were obviously into her.”

Ellie scrunched her eyebrows in confusion. At the realization the tense muscles of her face softened, but were still written with gentle confusion. “The blonde on? I wasnt- why would i be into her?”

“Because shes pretty and obviously ready to suck you off right then and there so what else.” Y/n shrugged, annoyance building onto her tone.

A chill ran up her spine at the sight of how Ellies face shifted at her statement.

“You’re really are fucking obvious are you?” Ellie huffed.

“About what Ellie?” Y/n desperately asked, Ellies lips pressing together.

“Im not doing this here. Grab your shit, im dropping you off at your house.” She said demandingly, y/n cursing at herself when her legs didn’t even waiver a second before speeding towards her purse to collect her things.

The car rang with the low tones of the gentle rock music that played from Ellies playlist. Other from that and the sound of the road rolling against the tires there was no noise within the car.

Y/n sat looking out the window, occasionally looking over at Ellies tense figure besides her.

Question hung heavily in the air and unspoken words riddled y/ns tongue. In the past 10 minutes of the car ride, y/n had repeatedly gained the confidence to strike up conversation but allowing her anxiousness eat away at it and retaliate.

Ellie suddenly turned and parked in front of the entrance to the apartment building which y/n lived at. She put the car in park and turned towards y/n her hand placing itself onto the back of y/ns seat.

“You really dont see it y/n?” Ellie said, speaking her first words in the entire car ride.

“See what Ellie? You keep talking about this it like i know what thats supposed to be.”

“It is whats right in front of you y/n! Me! The way i feel about you and the way you make me feel. I’ve tried so many times y/n i mean so many times to show you or hint to you that i like you more than what we say we are to each other.”

Y/n couldnt help but let her jaw slack, her lips parting open in surprise at Ellies words. Ellie hissed and rubbed her hands against her face, groaning.

“God.” She hissed. “Look y/n. I dont want to lose you. I dont care how youre in my life but i need you in it. If you dont feel the same way we can go on and forget tonight happened.”

Ellies shoulder slumped at the sound of giggles escaping y/ns throats, her hand coming up to cover her mouth.

“I dont think laughing is what i was expecting.” Ellie said.

“No no no, im not laughing at you. Im laughing cause Dina was fucking right.”

That response didnt exactly ease Ellies nerves, almost taking offense to it. These feelings were quickly eased at the sight of y/n spring out of her seat and the feeling of her lips searing into hers.

A wave of euphoria rushed through Ellie at the feeling of y/n. On her. Her hands on Ellies neck and on her knees as she bent over the arm rest.

It was as if the kiss almost spoke hundreds of words of exchange that neither of them had said. Their lips moved against one another, clutching onto a string of reality.

The two separated to breath desperate breaths of air, their foreheads against one another and noses brushing against each other.

“I think i let how much i like you and how much i dont want to ruin us not let me see the obvious.” Y/n said barely above a whisper, Ellies lip curling into a smile.

“You’re so stubborn.” Ellie responded, leaning back and brushing her thumb across the apple of y/ns cheek. “Its almost three im the morning and you have class at nine, get yourself to bed.” She said even though those very words caused her so much dread.

Y/n groaned but couldnt contain the sheepish smile on her face. “Alright. Ill be at your place by 11. That ok?” Y/n asked almost nervously.

Ellie leaned forward and kissed y/ns lips once again. “Whats expecting anything different. Im not done with you.” She smirked, making y/n blush.

“Ill see you tomorrow.” Y/n said as she opened the car door.

“Text me when your upstairs.” Ellie said before y/n closed the door, her response being a thumbs up and happy wave before running into the lobby.

Ellie drove all the way back to her apartment with a cheesy smile on her face and her hands excitedly tapping the steering wheel to the drumming of the music she played lauder than before.

Just wait till Jesse hears this.

a/n — heres a lil fic for you guys just to keep u fed <<3 love yall and i hope your having a wonderful pride month 😽😽